Of Sheep and Battle Chicken
by LogicalPremise
Summary: My AU retelling of ME1, with a darker feel. The evolution of a dangerous renegade with zero personality and all the empathy of a car tire to a real person, and changing the story of ME1 so that it's better shaped to fit a darker, more Paragade universe. FShep with a focus on relationships and emotions. Pairing is FShep/Liara. M rating for graphic violence.
1. Prologue 1: Arcturus

**A/N:** _So, here is the beginning of the AU I spoke of. This is NOT going to be a straight retelling of ME but a... redo. There are minor OC's, but almost all of them are based on characters in the story or are just there to fill out things. The first few chapters are background, setting up to the Normandy arriving on Eden Prime. Each of the squadmates gets a lead in chapter. Much like Renegade Reinterpretations, my ME universe is darker and colder. Unlike RR, however, people CAN change. _

**Updated 4-27: **_Cleanup of tenses, a few spelling errors, some more descriptions. __  
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* * *

January 19, 2183 – Arcturus Station

The room was not large, given it's importance, but was richly decorated. The walls were wood paneled, the floor carpeted. A bar ran along one wall, a huge viewport along another, displaying a dazzling view of the beyond, stars burning in the eternal night. The long meeting table was real mahogany, imported all the way from Earth, inlaid with the Alliance symbol in gold. Marring it's pristine surface were a collection of file folders and datapads, the very oldest and newest in documentation.

The air was tainted by cigar smoke, rising in lazy whorls before being snatched away by the air filters, the expensive Terra Novan tobacco bringing a teasing, sweet scent to the otherwise dry air. 5 men sat in the room, but one was unimportant, merely a recorder of events, faded blond hair shorn in buzz cut, framing a square , almost empty face. His uniform was crisp as he began transcribing the latest words into a new pad.

One of other four figures in the room sat almost redolently, while the other three had far stiffer positions, perched in overstuffed chairs bespeaking their influence. The table was a warzone of political detrius, a light lunch, datapads limned in the red-and-white of secure documents, and old, bitter secrets. A half dozen digitized faces rotated in cold blue lighting above the center of the table, each surmounting a scrolling list of achievements, commendations, and facts. A soft VI voice spoke each of their names as the men at the table discussed their merits.

"John Rodgers Young. Captain, SAMC. N6."

A voice cut through the air, crisp, cultured, yet almost lazy in it's subtle tones of indifference and amusement. "No. Emotional baggage. Wife, children. Also, he hates turians. Next?"

The VI spoke again, almost apologetically. "Jason Delacor. Captain, SAMC. N7." The stern voice made a clucking noise, and the sound of exhalation. "He's in charge of the 5th. And frankly, after Akuze? I don't think the man has what it takes. Next."

"Melissa von Ituria. Lieutenant Commander, SAIS. P7." Another voice spoke, hesitant, unsure. "I .. I believe that she's not really fit for this position either. A good space tactician, but .. this position requires a lethal warrior on the ground level as well." The stern voice made a murmur of agreement. The VI sounded off again.

"James Branson. Commander, SANF. N7."

A long sigh sounded in the room, and the stern voice sounded weary. "Gentlemen, we have now been through your first tier of candidates, and there isn't a single one I'd feel totally comfortable with. And this one is no exception. The Hero of Elysium is good, yes, and a very … ideal figure. But he's naïve, foolhardy, and worst of all a glory hound." The man who spoke puffs on his cigar briefly. He was not fat, but large, muscles once taut and powerful now somewhat soft. His expensive suit was unruffled from the trip here, silk and demiweave a muted grey-silver that gleamed faintly in the dim light of the holoprojection on the table. His eyes were dark, cold grey, the same as his perfectly trimmed hair. Every line in his face was cold, elegant and calm. A tap of the large hand , festooned with gold rings, dumped a crumbling ash in a pile into the nearby ashtray. "I honestly do not believe that we can .. expect .. him to perform the high level tasks we need."

The man that faced him across the table was like but unlike. Like the man, his frame was large, fading from muscle with age. Old, harsh red scars marred the craggy strength of his profile, the lantern jaw, the hard blue eyes, the firm, almost dour set to his mouth. His uniform was ablaze across the chest with ribbons, each one a testament to courage, valor, and skill. Four stripes of pure gold perched on either shoulder, symbols of both power and duty. His voice was a grating, slate drawl, like the crunch of gravel. "Senator, I think we can both agree that whoever we submit must be a symbol that represents the best of what humanity has to offer, and James Branson is just that. I understand your concerns with his actions. But he's proven himself many times since then, and almost every other person we can think of does not have his mix of skills and symbolism."

"Admiral Hackett, I don't disagree." The senator puffed his cigar again. "Symbolism is certainly important. But if we're going to do this, it has to be someone who can get the job done, whatever the job may be. Whatever the cost. I look at these fine men and women you have proposed and I see great soldiers. Heroes. Symbols, as you said. But I_ don't_ see someone who can make the hard calls a Spectre might have to undertake. The Hero was a hero because instead of falling back he showboated. I don't like that. Delacor is a survivor, but that's all he is, for all his achievements. Ituria is a complete novice at ground warfare. What I need is someone who will never, ever fail us."

The other two figures at the table glanced at each other. The leftmost one, also in uniform, straightened slightly. "There is one other. . . possibility, Senator Adkins. One we hesitated to submit given the delicacy of the position, and the various reactions putting her name forward might entail. But if you really don't approve of the other candidates, we have no choice." The man frowned, his dark face set in severe lines. It was a face that spoke of great strength and great sorrow, and his voice, refined with a touch of London, belied his trim, muscular appearance. "Open file 53-9 Alpha, authorization Anderson, David". A pause. "Major?"

The other figure at the table merely nodded. "Confirm, open file 53-9 Alpha, authorization Kyle, Preston". This man is slender, his appearance , while neat, not was.. firm as the others. His medals were fewer, his posture was that of a defeated man, not a proud one, and his voice was very slightly unsteady.

The VI spoke again, in neutral female tones. "Accessing secure Alliance databases." A single holographic image replaces the six faces at the center of the table, and the Senator leaned forward. "...well, that's not what I expected, for sure." Adkins voice was almost amused.

The hologram was that of a human woman, her face a profile in stillness. Black hair framed features that would be lovely if not set in such a cold expression. Eyes the color of an angry storm front stared out unseeing, the nose, thin; the planes of the face set and almost unfeeling; the mouth, an angry slash marred by black lipstick. The eyes, though, drew one in, promising nothing but oblivion.

The VI announced in solemn tones. "Sara Shepard. Commander, SAMC. N7."

Senator Adkins exhaled, smoke curling from his mouth. "The Butcher of Torfan." Anderson coughed before speaking, trying to keep his voice even and calm. "Yes, Senator. A top N7 graduate, ranked first in every exercise. She's completed the entire workup for a space command as well. Crosstrained in both biotic and electronic combat. She's had tactical command at the battle of Dirth and again against pirate incursions at Terra Nova, and Horizon. Blocked the so-called revenge strike on Mindoir. And of course...Torfan."

Hackett spoke up. "Her background is … problematic. She was heavily involved with gangs and worse on Earth, and enlisted to avoid a capital sentence." Anderson gave the admiral an angry look, and Hackett sighed. "But... I must admit, she's surpassed anyone's wildest expectations. Pushed herself to the top, from the very bottom. Deadly, never failed a single mission over the course of 200 missions. Wounded 18 times, never out of commission. Completely fearless. Not exactly a .. people person, but that's not really what the job requires."

Major Kyle spoke. "She's … like ice set on fire. She doesn't fight." The other three men turned to look at the major, who was looking at his hands as if they are stained. "She destroys. She overwhelms. You can't imagine it. But they are right. If you give her this, she will never fail, never surrender, and ..." He gave an almost helpless look at Anderson. "Just be aware of what you're playing with. It's plasma fire."

Adkins nodded. "Is she stable? There's quite a bit of this record that's been redacted and she came from... hard times, it looks like."

Anderson nodded. "She is … emotionless, sir. She is utterly, completely professional. She has no bias – she had to work with turians once, fought alongside a krogan on Torfan, and participated in a months long training exercise with asari commandos as well. No friction. No serious private life to speak of. Never gets into trouble. No drugs, no messy divorces, not even civil disturbance tickets. Obeys every order, regardless of . .. " Anderson hesitates , and then firms his voice "...anything in the way. She won't embarrass us, won't try to show off, and I can't imagine her doing anything to betray the Systems Alliance. "

At this, Kyle gave a very thin , sardonic smile. "Tell them the rest, David."

Adkins looked over at Anderson, who sighed. "I will be the first to admit she is not the perfect candidate. Torfan, sir. That was … not our best moment, in many ways. She murdered prisoners, she used her marines like expendable assets, and she – "

Adkins shrugged, and waved him to silence. "She got the job done, Captain. That's what matters."

A fifth voice now spoke up, unrepresented in the room, connected by FTL data buoys. "IS that the kind of person we want as a Spectre, Senator?" The voice was almost nasal, but cold, with a touch of accent.

Senator Adkins, the most powerful of the members of the Alliance council, scrubbed out his cigar. "Ambassador Udina, that is the only kind of person who can be such a thing. Forward the recommendation to the citadel. " A pause, and then Udina spoke. "I'll...make the call."

Anderson nodded. "And I'll get the ball moving, sir, in regards to the Normandy." The four men stood up, somewhat stiffly. "Major Kyle, with me please. Senator, Admiral."

* * *

Kyle and Anderson walked out of the room, and then down the adjacent hallway, everything done in plain old steel paneling and Alliance logo stencils. Dress boots clicked with a metronome's precision as the two men rounded another corner, before Kyle stopped. "David...you know what she's like. How...far she has gone. Is this really a good idea?"

Captain David Anderson paused for several seconds, his dark face taut with .. worry? Fear? Concern? "I don't know, Preston. That's not a question I can answer. I can say that , from what I've seen of the Spectres..."

Anderson closed his eyes, and grimaced. "She'll fit right in, then. I'll see if I can't get Delacor on the horn and...explain this to him."


	2. Prologue 2 : Shepard

**A/N: **_Cleaned up some text and spelling errors. If you see any I missed, let me know. _

* * *

January 20th , 2183 , 9:50 AM

"Suppressive fire , now! Jackson, Carls, left flank, maintain pressure." The voice is like ice, loud and yet somehow precise, it's smoky contralto speaking of nothing but absolute control.

The sky is riven by the slashes of GARDIAN lasers as two more pirate ships crash to the ground in vast, earthshaking plumes of fire and dust. The sky is a broken red, streaked through with wispy grey clouds. The ground is burnt, blackened, the hulls of broken colony modules offering up thick black plumes of smoke to the uncaring sky. Marines, clad in heavy blue and white armor, move in tight squads, the ground broken up in layers, three tiered platforms of concrete like a giant stairway covered in their form. At the edges, pirate forces fired back. The bark of sniper rifles competed with the low-pitched chattering of submachine guns and the occasional angry booming cough of a shotgun.

A single black-armored figure stands among a tide of blue-armored soldiers, directing their assault. She leaps down from the broken edge of a landing pad, lithe energy untrammeled as she half crouches next to a prefabricated wall still stenciled with assembly numbers. The ugly bark of Avenger assault rifles pierces the air, along with the scent of burning flesh, and the shrieks of the wounded and dying.

Almor was not a first or even second-tier colony world. Barely a collection of ship modules and mining gear, it had less than a thousand souls , all Ashland-Eldfell employees mining heavy pockets of titanium and palladium. Without defense towers or even a militia, the handful of private security mercenaries and a reinforced group of cheap security mechs was not much match for a full pirate raid. A cruiser and 9 pirate frigates had erupted from the mass relay, so secure in their collective might they had not even deployed a scout first.

Except this time, it was bait, with the miners and all other civilians flown out a week earlier. Now the "helpless civilians" were actually hardened Marines from the 299, the "private security forces" all N5+ special forces, the "cheap mechs" a force of JOTUN heavy assault mechs. Six pirate ships had been shot out of the sky by the _Calais_ and the _Iwo Jima, _after they had been savaged by the long range shots of the _Saint Helens_ just after jumping into the system.

Still , the pirates had landed, and the fight was on, the scum unaware just how badly they had been played. The casualties were heavy, the pirates bolstered by a thick scrum of Blood Pack vorcha, and now the commander of the operation was redefining the assault on the fly.

"Commander Shepard! Incoming gunships, orders?" The young face of the lieutenant next to her was taut with exhilarated fear, his armor dented and scorched from the building to building fighting that had occupied them most of the morning. His brown eyes were bright, even if his mouth was set in a grim line.

Shepard paused. Her features set in an emotionless mask, she turned. "Ignore them. Let them get in firing range then have Squad 7 hit them with crossfire from their M-77's. We can't afford to let them know about the mobile GARDIAN trucks until that cruiser is found, Higgs."

Lieutentant Higgs grimaced, but complied. "Y...yes , ma'am. That means squad nine -"

Her voice was cold. "They should dig in, then. Give the orders." Shepard popped up , one hand grabbing on to the ledge above her, hauling her weight up to the next level. Movement caught her eye and with her free hand she unclipped her pistol and fired 3 shots , rapid fire. Higgs started as there was a spray of blood and two broken figures slipped from rubble to land bonelessly on the ground. Orange and blue ichor mingled, a turian and a batarian, each with a bloody crater between the eyes, their weapons in their hands cold.

"Pathetic." Shepard pulled herself up, gazing around, and tapped her omni-tool. "Where is that damned suppressive fire!" A laconic voice answered, syllables slurred slightly in a undercurrent of fatigue. "Sorry, ma'am. Jackson and Carls are both dead, trying to reorganize a firing line now. This is Moharmi."

Shepard grunted. "Acknowledged. Move up the FOA to current position and set up the GARDIAN trucks at this site." She clipped off the communicator. "Higgs, have 4th and 5th squads dig in here. I'm going to flush that cruiser out." She cursed, mentally adjusting the map of the battlefield in her head. Most likely without flanking suppressive fire, the squads here would be overrun when she completed her task...

_Mission before mercy. _The thought flicked across her consciousness, and she moved. With a leap, Shepard crossed the broken concrete edge of the upper level platforms and flew through the air below. With a grunt of effort, she flexed her arm, and blue fire wreathed her form, the mass effect field channeled by her amp reducing her weight to almost nothing. She fell three stories to the underway below, landing with barely a scrape of armored boots on cracked, filthy pavement.

"What th-" A voice exploded from behind her and she was moving, ducking into a half crouch even as her hand unshipped the shotgun at her back, firing twice. A batarian was flung backwards, two huge craters torn into the cheap battle-plast armor he wore. A second later Shepard was there, fist covered in coruscating blue energy as she smashed his skull to flinders, a vivid splat of blood marking his final moment.

Shepard paused to look around, pulling up the partial map on her omni tool. "All commands, be ready for papa india." She gathered herself and raced down the narrow underway, the shortcut slicing between slapdash mining equipment and the detrious of the battle above. A shattered salarian body here, fragments of armor and an arm there...

Ahead she saw it, the main mining facility, the pirate cruiser downed with huge cross-crossing lines of charred ablative armor on it's flank. Above it, the ugly overhang of the cliff the mining village was built around was scored with more black marks, but the orbiting ships were not able to get a clean hit on the grounded vessel. Even as she watched, the GARDIAN laser array of the pirate cruiser flared, 15 bright beams searing across the upper platforms in the distance, vaporizing more marines.

Pirates milled around the ship, attempting to make repairs to the heavy hits of the heavy frigates in orbit. More pirates frantically dug in, flinging up scraps of metal into makeshift barricades. Shepard cursed and tapped her comm. "_Saint Helens, _status."

The voice that answered was distorted by the screech of stellar radiation. "Time to position still three five minutes away. The last frigate pulled a suicide run on us, main propulsion is still down. We are out of range for fire support, ground control."

Shepard nodded. If that cruiser got repaired enough to get back in space, the two heavy frigates might do more damage...but would probably get wiped. And if that happened, the cruiser could simply bombard her forces on the ground to paste, or get away entirely. _Not going to happen on my watch. _

Shepard knelt, and unshipped the weapon she had brought. The heavy green canisters were technically illegal in Citadel space, but there were not many cameras around to watch what was about to happen. Carefully programming her payload with her omni-tool, Shepard loaded the missile launcher.

Pausing to gather herself, she reached out with her biotics, focusing on a heavy beam of scrap suspended above the main semi-wreckage of the cruiser. With a grunt she pulled it down, releasing it almost immediately, and watched as the 800-pound hunk of metal crashed into the cruiser's hull. A rain of sparks flew high into the air as a huge, hollow boom sounded from the impact. One pirate screamed as the projectile slid down the curved hull of the ship to smash into him, rendering him into a splash of red paste and segments of unidentifiable flesh. Shepard gave a grim little smile, as all the eyes turned to the source of disturbance, and fired her missile.

It flashed across the battlefield in a heartbeat, slamming directly into the cruisers side, not doing much damage as it exploded. Vile , heavy black gasses erupted in all directions as the chemical compounds inside interacted, producing thick, choking clouds of poisonous black gunk. A pirate screamed as he fell to the ground, blood pouring from eyes and nose, and a turian next to him gagged helplessly as blue blood seeped from between his plates.

The pirate commander went stiff at the sight, her features tightening into an almost pain filled mask. She recognized a lethal nerve agent when she saw it. This raid had gone all wrong from the start, her beloved cruiser a near wreck, most of her fleet gone...and no slaves. She watched bitterly as more marines began slicing their way through her last remaining forces, but her immediate concern was the black smoke now flooding the battle-space. Even a whiff of that was a painful, slow death. And if it got into the cruiser's air systems...

She hopped back into the cruiser and cycled the airlock, locking the access hatch behind her and hitting the button that sealed the systems from the outside. "Bn'nga, get us in the air." She tapped the haptic interface in front of her, grimacing at the damage reports. "Kinetic barriers still down, I see." A pause and her baterian pilot grunted over the intercomm. "Been nice knowing you, Thalia. No way we can deal with those two frigates until the repairs are done." Alarms flashed as she exited the airlock into the main corridor of the ship, the smell of old worn out air-filters comforting. The pirate woman snarled. "Keep us just above the ground, hugging it. We'll circle sunside and get lost in the solar radiation. We can make it out. If we stick on the ground anymore , we'll get holed by those stupid humans." The batarian , barely visible in the front of the ship, nodded, beginning his maneuver.

The heavy, unwieldy cruiser, an old turian design, slid forward, mass effect core barely lifting it clear of the ground. The engines lit up, as the last of the pirates still outside the ship gave a blood-strangled curse and died. Shepard made sure her breathing mask was in place and tapped her comm. "Spear, be ready. No target ladar, fire on my target designator."

"Acknowledged, ma'am."

The pirate cruiser wheeled, the pilot skillfully keeping the ship low to the ground. The frigates in the sky fired a few shots that went wide, and the cruiser picked up speed. Shepard tracked the ship with her rifle, the laser target unit on it's side sending out a beam of green light... and when the pirate ship angled up ever so slightly, she pressed the button on the side of the rifle. "Designated. Fire when ready, Spear."

Thalia Renas, pirate queen of Alsages, gave a smile as the cruiser accelerated. A few more minutes and they'd make a clean getaway. She had lost hundreds of men and almost her entire fleet...but so had the Alliance...and she would live to fight another day. She turned to head to the back of the ship when suddenly the entire ship lurched. 8 huge beams of death carved instantly into the hull from the until now concealed GARDIAN laser GTS trucks at the edges of the colony.

The cruiser dipped, sliding from the sky in a blaze of burning armor and uncontrolled fires, as the trucks unleashed a torrent of heavy laser fire on it again and again. Thalia couldn't believe it , even as haptic interfaces flashed red all around her. "The bitch sacrificed her own men to …."

Another flash of lasers , and Thalia Renas knew her pirate empire was no more.

* * *

In the aftermath of battle, the ugly truth of warfare becomes evident. The ground was carpeted in corpses, rivulets of blue, red, orange and purple all commingling on the torn and shattered landscape. Corpses stared unblinkingly at the angry red sky, the wind carrying the charnel scent of burning flesh everywhere. Here and there medical corpsmen triaged wounded marines, applying medigel infused bandages and speaking in soft tones. Smoke wafted gently skywards, as Alliance fighter units began to descend, harrying any remaining enemy forces with lances of purifying fire.

On the highest tier of the colony, the concrete underworks were a bit more high quality, the colony shells larger, cleaner. Offices for the Ashland-Eldfell executives who normally oversaw everything, Shepard supposed. As she watched, at UT-47 drop shuttle came to a shuddering landing , fore and aft burners firing to stabilize the craft as two figures dropped from it's inner bay. One she was all too familiar with, in recent days, the other … she had not seen in a very long time.

"Sir. Operation complete. Initial casualties of pirate forces indicate over 1,700 dead. We have destroyed all pirate vessels in the operation. The body of Thalia Renas was discovered on the cruiser, sir."

The man facing her was large, angry looking and almost...weary. "Thank you, Commander Shepard. Do we have any prisoners for interrogation?" His face was craggy and marred with a heavy, irregular scar on one side, occluding his eye and part of his scalp, the cybernetic eye replacement making a tiny whirring noise as he focused on Shepard.

"No, Captain Delacor. " Shepard thought back to the wreckage of the pirate cruiser.

* * *

_Thalia had actually survived, both legs broken. She had been crawling to the rear of the ship, where another asari lay stunned, this one far younger. Shepard had stepped over burning wreckage and unshipped her shotgun. "Freeze."_

_Thalia only looked at Shepard, then back at the young asari. "I surrender. Or kill me. Whatever. But...not my daughter. She had no part in this. She did not know. Please. "The pirate 's voice was broken with pain and rough, and Shepard gave a tiny smile as she knelt down._

"_And how many slaves begged for mercy from your men? How many families have you wrecked with your evil?"_

_Thalia 's blue eyes widened, and she clenched her fists, the blood and shattered bones of her legs forgotten. "You... you are supposed .. to be better than... people like me. I know what I did. Fine. Kill me. But she didn't do a thing. Have...mercy. Not for me. But for her. She..."_

_Shepard paused, and then leveled her shotgun, placing a blast right into the head of the unconscious asari girl. Thalia screamed and screamed in horror and anger, trying to rise to her feet despite the compound fractures, and the shotgun spoke again, in finality._

"_Sorry. But mercy is not a quality I deal in."_

* * *

Shepard straightened, facing her commanding officer. "No prisoners or survivors. Sir."

Captain Jason Delacor looked at Shepard with weary , disgusted features. "Imagine that. Very well, Shepard. Not my problem any more." He grunted. "Your request for transfer has been noted and approved."

Shepard raised a dark eyebrow, her posture still ramrod straight, and glanced over at the other man. Anderson only shrugged. "If you're interested, that is, Shepard. I need an XO for a new command I've just picked up."

Shepard only looked at the man. "... yes, sir." A pause, as if searching for words. "I would .. sir. I mean, I accept, sir. " The face was unmoving, not a single twitch of muscle, but Shepards eyes had gone from hard and flint to .. dark, almost quiet.

Delacor nodded amiably. "I'll get the paperwork out of the way. This sounds like a speed transfer, based on the orders from Hackett. If you'll follow me, Captain, we can get this wrapped up inside. Sheaprd, police up this … disaster area you've made and detail off recovery and burial squads. "

Shepard saluted, eyes hard once more. "Sir, yes sir." Pivoting on a heel, she stalked off, something … almost animalistic in her walk. Delacor shuddered and gestured to the office behind him. "After you, Captain."

Anderson stepped into the office, which had been converted hastily into a command center. A rack of Avenger rifles was clipped neatly to one wall, the other two pasted over with rough terrain maps and a top down display of the undertunnels and mining tunnels. Comm radios for various units were neatly clipped on the windowsill in easy reach, next to the captain's own weapon, a heavy Vindicator rifle.

The desk was flimsy and covered in datapads, pieces of a Vigilance sniper rifle, and leftover lunch, which was dumped into the trash by Delacor as he sat down behind the desk. "So, Captain Anderson...anything else you can tell me about this transfer?"

Anderson sat as well, taking in the man across from him. Delacor was yet another broken man, the only survivor of the Akuze disaster and one of the few people to walk away from the First Raid on Mindoir. Life had dealt the Special Forces N7 captain an unlucky draw. Anderson considered this as he spoke, urgently , but calmly. "It's classified, actually, but it isn't just to take Shepard off your hands. I've known Shepard a long time. I know she is … difficult to work with, but there's no one better."

Delacor snorted. "Difficult? She used nirax nerve agent to flush out pirates from the cruiser they had down here, after getting almost a third of my men killed to bait their frigates into a low-orbit battle. And yet again I have to explain to Alliance command why I have zero prisoners. They are starting to have issues believing me when I say every enemy we encounter fights to the death." He shuddered. "One of the dead we found on the cruiser was a very young asari...looked like a fucking child, to be honest, head blown clean off by that... that..."

Anderson only nodded, pulling out his datapad. "Which is why we are making this transfer. We have a task for Shepard that will allow her to focus all her .. energy on the task at hand." He presented the transfer chit to Delacor, who nearly snatched out of his hand and approved it without even reading it .

Delacor handed it back, eyes dark and mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "You have no idea what kind of monster she's become, Captain. "

Anderson shook his head. "I know her. There's still a good person in there, somewhere."

Delacor shot to his feet, eyes suddenly narrow, and roared. "There isn't a PERSON in there anywhere! She's a fucking demon! I've seen her kill CHILDREN! I've seen her shoot down surrendering soldiers and kick dying men to death. I've seen her sacrifice a dozen marines to kill one batarian and then torture him to death! She's fucking sick! She's -"

Anderson gave a sad smile. "And when the news says the Butcher is deployed to a region, what happens to piracy?" His own eyes darken. "When we send her into a terrorist negotiation, what happens? When people see her coming, they know they either surrender – at once – or die."

Delacor rubbed his eyes, his muscular frame shaking. "I .. I feel as if I have been tainted, compromised by ...what she is. What she does. I a...apologize for my outburst."

Anderson stood, pocketing the approved transfer order. "No, I understand. And it's been a long time. Maybe I can...reign her in again."

Delacor sat down, and buried his face in his hands. "Yeah. Good luck with that, sir." He paused, then sat up straight and tapped his omni-tool. "Shepard, finish up what you're doing and report to central tasking. You ship out … immediately. "

The line was silent for a moment, then she spoke. "Yes sir. At once". Delacor killed the link and smile sadly up at Anderson.

"The bitch is all yours. Don't bring her back."


	3. Prologue 3 : Wrex

January 20th , 2183

Urdnot Wrex was not happy.

_It's amazing how stupid people always think they can escape consequences, _he thought, checking the loads on his shotgun before shipping it in the lack at the small of his back. The huge krogan then came to his full 7'8 inch height, his scarred face looking around him with jaded, ancient disinterest.

The Citadel was much the same as it always was, a patina of blind fools prating away among five cities worth of people pretended they had made it big, while the sludge of society lapped away at their very feet, snickering in amusement even as they feigned obedience. C-Sec was it's usual efficient self, cocksure and arrogantly lording it over the commingling races in the docking bay, their blue armor setting the apart from the drab coveralls and tired hex-pack travel wear of the many people thronging about.

Not they got anywhere near Wrex, of course. No, the crowd parted before him, worried and frightened glances and hasty motions clearing a path as if a mass effect field had parted some sea for him to walk through. The battlemaster began to walk to the far end of the bay, eyes barely taking in the outstretched arms of the Citadel, festooned with a parade of light and motion. His heavy armored feet thudded like the boom of distant thunder on the metal decking below him, as a group of salerians clucked in alarm at his menacing approach and scattered. _Worthless pack of pyjak dung. I hate this all docking bays, never fails to be full of people on the go to someplace that ends up getting in my damned way. _

The air was stale, still, rank with the body scents of things that clanked, flapped, and glowed. The din of faintly said words beyond the range of the translator was a dull, irritating roar in the background, the staid and ugly arches of the under supports of the bay littered with the occasional graffiti. An insectoid keeper crossed in front of him, softly chattering as it began to unscrew a panel on the wall, eyes fixed in an idiot's focus.

Wrex did not like the Citadel. Too soft, too full of fools, too much security that never stopped the strong but merely enabled the weak to be preyed upon multiple times. Wrex had no time for the wide eyed humans, snobby asari, or the uppity turians. He was here to see **one** person about **one** job and then he could get off this stupid tin can and back to the free, clean wilderness of the Terminus systems.

_Hadn't been to Omega in decades. Maybe I can go get some work there, and Aria and I can pretend we don't recognize each other again._ He snorted in wry amusement, mood lifting slightly, and turned the corner from the main corridor to a long, empty access hallway that lead only to empty docking bays. In a pool of light at the far end stood a slender, menacing figure, all in black, cloth falling from cocked hips, ungloved talons gleaming in the faint light. One hand clasped a thick black cane, the other was hooked into a wide black leather belt weighted down with weapons. The turian's face was a black space within the all-concealing hood, the tip of mandibles barely visible, and one angry glowing red eye.

Wrex strode up, gait easy and slow, hands empty. "Tetrimus."

The turian's voice was a cold rasp, as if damaged. "Wrex."

The krogan made no movement. Tetrimus was a scary bastard, Wrex respected his strength and quiet lethality. He had been one of those who spoke "with the voice of the Shadow Broker" for almost 50 years now. Everyone else with such a close connection had … simply vanished. That , in and of itself, was enough make Wrex's plates itch with … if not worry... caution.

"I hate coming here and I haven't had my friendly chat with C-Sec or my first cup of jaaki yet, so let's get this over with, turian."

The black-clothed figure pulled his hand free from his belt and extended a datapad. "To work. Three solar cycles ago, we received a low level contact from an interested party. A salarian , Mano Ergdai, had a confirmed lead on activity regarding certain bio-engineering activities in the Perseus Veil. Details are not important. The contact was to be made, here, yesterday. " A pause.

Wrex grunted. "Who was the contact supposed to be?"

"Fist, fourth level entry contact at Chora's Den, Lower Bachrjet Wards."

Wrex snorted. "Gristle headed two bit thug. What happened?"

Tetrimus exhaled. "Due to the data's importance, a liquidation team was sent." Wrex snorted. Translation, the data was hot and expensive enough the Broker was willing to kill to get it. "There was an altercation. Two members of the wet team were taken down. The contact was liquidated, the data lost. We are almost certain this is an internal security breach. Meeting times and places were known only to myself, the Broker, the security team – both dead...and Fist."

Wrex tilted his reptilian head, red eyes fixing on the artificial one of the turian. "You want me to kill Fist?"

The turian shook his head, the minimal movement exposing an expanse of scarred, blackened plating and red facial markings. "Not yet. The Broker has decided the chance that this was not a betrayal by Fist is ..nonzero. Thus a test. The next official contact event we have will be routed to Fist. We have isolated and identified all other potential leaks. Your job will be to ensure there is no leak with Fist. If he betrays us , secure the asset and kill Fist. If he is secure, inform him – respectfully – that someone in his organization is compromised, and that a level 2 liquidation will be conducted."

Wrex nodded, familiar with the Broker's rather extreme methods. Even if Fist wasn't a traitor, he had let someone pierce his security. For that, Fist would be ejected as a Broker dealer and contact, cut off from the Feed, and excluded from any further contact. Wrex was rather surprised the order wasn't just to kill him anyway, the Broker did not usually display such mercy.

It was curious enough, actually, that Wrex decided he needed to know more. "Why not just kill him anyway? He's just a human thug."

Tetrimus gave a harsh bark of bitter laughter, mandibles flickering. "The Broker believes humans are about to be awarded rights to submit a candidate for the Spectres, in preparation for them to assume a Council seat. Councilor Tevos is … impressed with certain actions humanity has taken recently. Some human raid killed an old enemy of hers. The Broker has contacts in human space but Fist is uniquely placed – he is the brother to a recently placed acolyte with the Consort, his bar is frequented by those members of C-Sec who are open to influence and bribes, and he has very good ties with the Blue Suns and the Underunners. Fist could be developed and mentored to a second level contact with time and effort."

Wrex nodded, thinking, settling back on his legs. Humans had moved so … fast … in less than a century they went from first contact backwater rubes to boasting a navy clearly superior to that of the asari or salerians, regardless of dreadnaught numbers. Their soldiers were as fierce and relentless as batarians but better disciplined. Having good contacts was how the Broker stayed in power, and having contacts with contacts of their own, in such a fast moving situation, would be something the Broker wouldn't throw away at the first sign of a problem.

"Alright. So I keep an eye on this guy. He double crosses us, kill him, otherwise give him a warning and put a bullet through his link to the Feed. Pay?"

Tetrimus nodded. "Full expenses, hotel of your choice, bond fees, docking fees, transport within 4 jumps, and your usual fees for live combat wetwork." Wrex grinned , suddenly in a much better mood, this job wouldn't cost him a credit and he'd get to move out almost immediately.

_Yeah...Omega. Wonder if Aleema still has that beat up old krogan as a trophy or not. _"Done. Who's my contact?"

Tetrimus shrugged. "I will serve. I'll be at Flux if you need me. Upper Wards club, same ward. 4 hours, after mid-light to just before low-light. Payment in credits and docking passes once completed. If you need additional support, I can provide that. Here." Tetrimus handed over a C-Sec weapons authorization (identifying him as a bodyguard for a turian CEO), a 10,000 credit chit, and the datapad with the mission information on it. "Pad code is WREAV. As usual, it wipes in 96 hours."

Wrex frowned. "Broker has a stupid sense of humor", rubbing his crest at the name of his worthless brother. "No matter. I'll be keeping an eye on Fist. " Without another word, Wrex stomped away, tucking his new possessions into the outer pocket of his battered red armor, and began thinking tactically.

_Fist is not going to be public, he'll have dug himself in somewhere. If he betrays the Broker openly, he has to know he's a dead man...unless whoever he betrays the Broker for has resources enough to keep him alive. That means a Spectre, or deep Alliance, or a Councilor. None of which make sense. _

Wrex grumbled, talking back out into the open bay-area, and over to the shuttle call. _Humans are never tactical thinkers, always too busy going after the quick profit. Salerians aren't known for being trusting , and who ever whacked the guy with the info not only took him out, but took out two of the Broker's bully boys to do it. Pile of varren shit, more than a damned "leak". _The krogan sighed as the taxi pulled even to the curb, and stepped in as it's top split open. Leaning his large bulk back into the squishy plastic seats that vainly tried to shape themselves around him, he barked out commands. "Brakas Hotel, Lower Wards, Backrjet."

The taxi swooped away, entering the tube-ways linking the five wards together that passed along the outside of the Presidium ring. Wrex snorted at the sight, rolling his eyes at the thought of simpering paper-pushers within the flimsy looking ring. _Soft ass aliens...not worth my time._

Leaning back further, the old krogan closed his eyes. _Seems like nothing is, these days, except credits I can't spend and ryncol that doesn't keep the memories away long enough. _


	4. Prologue 4 : Liara

January 20th , 2183

The bone-white corridor seemed to shimmer for a moment , it's faintly curved lines still polished and gleaming despite the millenia that had past since this outpost of the Protheans was laid low. Liara T'soni trailed delicate blue fingers over the surface of the wall, feeling how the not-quite ceramic/metal hybrid actually flexed gently at a touch, yet was resistant to almost all forms of damage.

The dig site she was in was one of several on Therum, most centered around the strange facility the Protheans had built literally into the side of a semi-active volcano. There were signs they used the thermal energy to power several devices that were now nothing more than miles long wreckage on the hot surface.

Liara had been here for almost 3 months now, the ever-present heat ruining more than one of her uniforms with sweat. The dig was remote, over 300 miles from the tiny outpost "capital" of Nova Yekaterinburg. The mining town was her first real exposure to humanity, that curious race, and she wished now she had skipped the place.

Nova Yekaterinburg was a rough place, all boxy colony modules, ramshackle bars, and poorly concealed brothels. The miners who worked the surface for the heavy metals were almost exclusively rough , brutish looking males. Liara was .. disturbed to see how much like asari human females looked. Aside from the skin itself (which was bizarrely delicate looking, not even finely scaled like that of asari) and it's numerous odd shades of tone, and the floppy crest analogue they called "haar", they looked almost exactly like asari.

_Except asari usually only sell themselves in dance...at least...I hope. _Seeing human prostitutes had been a literaly eye-opening experience, but having several proposition her and offer "freebies" was simply mortifying. The fact that a part of her almost said yes was even more upsetting.

Liara walked down the ancient Prothean hallway, her sensor unit humming away as it analyzed a scrap of broken ceramic. She was alone here now, the University of Althara having withdrawn the 8 salerian and 4 other asari researchers, and ExoGeni's own team had another 4 months until arrival. Liara was grateful that Dr. Maleas had negotiated the transition in such a way where Liara could research this find on her own – and at her leisure, instead of looking over her shoulder for competing researchers.

The young asari maiden wandered nearly aimlessly through the darkened, pale hallways while her omni-tool gathered readings while her mind tried to piece together what this place was. There were rooms and what seemed to be gathering points, but much of the facility seemed hardened. Every entry was covered with regenerative force fields that could be brought up to repel invaders or even trap intruders.

Powered by the magma flow exchanger far below,the facility would not even have shown up on scans if a recent earthquake hadn't revealed part of the complex after a rock-slide. There were computer systems here, wiped clean like every other Prothean system she had encountered, as well as broken Prothean Beacons, shattered green stumps standing mute guard in the dusty topside wind near the entrance to the dig site.

Moving around a protrusion in the ground, Liara paused. "Goddess, this is not a hallway..this is a .. a choke point." Stepping back from the waist high wall, Liara imagined the layout of the facility in her mind, concentric rings linked only by easily defended elevator shafts, protecting a chamber near the center that linked the power source below to whatever the ruins were topside...whatever it was, the Protheans had designed this place to hold out against superior numbers of infantry.

_Yet more evidence that the disappearance of the Prothean people was not a peaceful transition. _Liara frowned, and slowly exited the corridor, her feet taking her back to the small campsite she had set up at the base of the human elevator system .

Passing the heavy mining laser they had used to gain access to the entry portal in the first place, Liara wearily sat down on her cot, wiping a thin layer of sweat and grime from her forehead. She did not really want to head back into Nova Yekaterinburg , but she needed supplies, food, a shower...or three. And to connect to the extranet, look for notes and researches on Prothean military designs. The Protheans were almost stultifyingly uniform...every single building met the same layout specs even when they were on worlds across the galaxy from each other.

The scientist lay back on the cot, thinking, mind racing. Her features smoothed out, her thin lips grimacing as she yet again tried to find a way to avoid heading back into the human town for resupply.

The men had given her looks of unwelcome intent and desire. Hulking and huge, most of them topped out over half a meter taller than the frail asari girl, all of them with heavy slabs of tattooed muscle , hair, and grime. The ubiquitous heat made everyone cranky and short tempered..and tended towards light clothing that displayed too much flesh, from what Liara had seen of the women there.

That isn't what bothered Liara the most. What bothered her was the feeling she was followed, stalked. That there were eyes watching her every move. Fifty years of roughing in the wild and on all manner of research sites had not left Liara soft or unaware of her surroundings. . . and something was off in that little human town.

She groaned, and her hand went to her hip, pulling free a flask of drinking water, which she drained completely before letting it fall to the ground. She was beyond tired, dehydrated really, from the never-ending heat, the cramped, dark hallways, the need to gather all this data and process it herself in bursts of energy.

And the argument that still rang in her head, the … icy coldness of her mother during their last communication. The bizzare way she spoke, held herself, even moved. Liara worried about her mother, worried more that maybe nothing was wrong with Benezia at all, and that it was herself that was addled and lost after all these years in digsites. Her relationships with her fellow researchers were strained, with the salarians she was a hesitant, stuttering mess, too quick to avoid conflict and thus ignored as unneeded.

_How I wish I could just be .. like others instead of me. _A single tear trickled down her cheek, to be lost in the damp sweat she wiped from her forehead with an angry motion. 50 years of her life...felt wasted at times. 5 books, which no one read. 27 papers, all ignored or mocked by the more experienced researchers at the University of Serrice. 8 major expeditions, 450 recovered artifacts...and not a single extension of a teaching position, a research job.. nothing.

Go here, fetch that, be a good little girl. Never able to even think about a relationship, most asari shunning her as a pureblood piece of trash. Unable to connect to her mother any more, who was too busy to deal with her silly daughter who had thrown away a chance to serve her people to go dig in the ground. Too polite to make her way in a society where boldness, promiscuity, clever misdirection and flirtation with intellect and other , alien beings measured success.

_And of course, I am making things so much better by laying on a filthy cot in my own sweat, feeling sorry for myself. _Liara's lips twitched into a sad, self pitying sort of smile as she closed her eyes, needing rest, or just oblivion.

The comm unit on the far side of the tent lit up with an apologetic tone. "Incoming message, University of Serrice, Dr. T'soni" . The VI chimed softly as Liara grunted. "Realtime communication requested."

Liara sighed, staggering to her feet and walking over to the unit. Pausing a moment, she tore open one of the cleaning towels Dr. Brakas had politely left behind , wiping her face clean and digging the edge of a fingernail against her crest, wiping sand out. Flinging the towel into the trash, she triggered the commlink.

The static-glitched image of a stern , older asari filled the screen. Unlike Liara, who's early fascination with humans lead to her tattooing human eyebrows above each eye, the asari before her had the marks of a commando etched deeply into her cerulean skin. Eyes narrow and more black than blue regarded the tired, frail form of Dr. T'soni, before the cruel mouth smirked. "Ah, Dr. T'soni. You look well rested. I presume everything is going well with your , ah, excursion?"

Liara grit her teeth but managed to reply politely. "Yes, Dr. Sanaris, it is. I believe this facility to be a military installation, after review of the floor plan and the power systems. It's possible the surface ruins that once linked her were some sort of maintenance facility, or some form of defensive grid."

The older asari 's smirk did not waver. "Yes, well, I'm sure that with … a more extended research period, we can conclude what the facility was used for. That is beside the point. I've just been notified that , unfortunately, ExoGeni has … stepped up their acquisition schedule. We'll be sending a freighter your way in a week, ExoGeni teams will be onsite shortly thereafter."

Liara's face crumbled in defeat. "But... Dr. Maleas..."

The smirk turned into a cruel grin. "Dr. Maleas of course did what he could. But such a.. fine man must also think of the larger picture, don't you think? Upon his return to Thessia, we were able to have a very nice conversation and discuss many matters where the combined Serrice/Althara team could benefit from a closer relationship with … ExoGeni."

Liara did not even look up at the screen. "I see. And you have, no doubt, already picked out what team members would participate in such an effort."

Dr. Sanaris only smiled wider. "Yes, well, as you know such things are done by seniority. I'm sure you can find something to … occupy your time for a few more days until the freighter arrives. Exogeni made it quite clear they will attend to the site themselves, no need for you to clutter the place up. " Sanaris drew away from the commlink unit, and Liara glimpsed what must be her personal quarters or apartment...and a slender form laying on some kind of bed just barely visible over her shoulder, the distinct shape of a salarian male. The double-bent horn on the right side was clearly that of Dr. Maleas.

Liara swallowed, a flush creeping into her cheeks even as a chill went down her spine. She had known Sanaris hated her, of course. Hated purebloods, hated Benezia, most of all hated her , all due to the fact that Liara had innocently , unintentionally found an error in Sanaris 's research and managed to win a grant out of finding and fixing it. But she didn't think the woman would go to the lengths of seducing the project lead to sabotage her...and clearly, she was wrong.

Liara trembled for a moment, then smiled. "I'm very glad that you were able to manage to sell yourself for the appropriate price. I figure that the head of Prothean studies feeling threatened by a little girl to the point she has to whore herself out to humans and salarians is something of a complement, actually."

Liara's voice dropped lower, to a vicious pitch. "I'll make sure I'm gone by the time ExoGeni arrives, doctor. No worries. I just wonder how Maleas will react once he realizes he's made an enemy of the daughter of one of the most powerful Matriarchs on Theesia to sleep with jumped up street trash."

Liara cut the connection even as she heard the other woman's enraged shriek. Why commoners felt so … put out whenver one of the Thirty Houses brought up their nobility and direct connection to Athame always left Liara confused, but no matter. _Putting that bitch in her place felt...good. _

Still, that left her a week to pack up her studies and equipment and prepare to move out again, and with no backing and no grants she was back to square one again for the fifth time in her life._ Oh, it would be so much simpler if the heroic and dashing Justicar could ride in and save me from...from..._

Liara looked down at her hands, the delicate looking fingers calloused, stained with dirt, and capped with broken fingernails. "Save me from myself, I suppose." 


	5. Prologue 5 : Benezia

January 20th , 2183

"Ethics...right, wrong...laws...mortal idiocy parading as a neccesity, when it is a chain, a leash, a wall between what makes us great and what makes us gods."

The voice was grating and harsh, yet...somehow soothing. It was so...right. There was nothing wrong with doing what must be done. _ There is a cost to all things...but a price is paid for a better future._

Matriarch Benezia gave a tiny shudder as Saren trailed a single talon against her cheek. The contact was a mockery of tenderness, instead a reminder of the sheer power he possessed. The unnatural lines of the ship – _the god machine, the gate to immortality _, her mind whimpered – all of these seemed to focus on him.

The talon reversed it's direction, tracing a fine line down her neck. "All things worth fighting for must be taken, never just … expected. This should be evident to a being of your wise years and power, Benezia." Saren's voice gentled, ever so slightly.

Benezia swallowed, not moving. "And when one grows..uncertain?"

Saren dropped his hand, his mandibles clicking against his jaw. "One remembers the price of doing nothing."

Benezia 's eyes followed the turian as he strode towards his seat, the odd chair at the center of the bridge of Sovereign. The mutliple cybernetic attachments made him a figure more machine than man, but his vitality, his _force, _was undimmed, even in the dark nightmare of this room. His plating was silver-bright, almost burnished, in the gleam of the dim blue lighting that suffused the room,. Naked, his body seems a war-torn shrine to duty, to sacrifice, to … pain.

Benezia had always wondered where he had been so grievously wounded, but the Spectre never spoke of this, only a quiver of mandibles showing his rage at the question.

She shook herself free of her own self-deliberation and stepped forward, each motion rich with elegance and grace. A thousand years of leadership and drawing the eyes made her motion natural, not feigned, but it seemed .. harder now. As if her mind was a splintered thing, scrabbling around, appropriating any logic, no matter how twisted, to justify her actions. Her hand touched his shoulder, gently, not forcefully but inquisitively. Saren glanced at it, and only nodded, the silent question between them unasked.

"I know what you are feeling."

"It is the bond, nothing more, Saren. Natural."

The turian shrugged her hand off. "There is little natural about me any longer, Benezia. I do not need...comfort. What have we heard from Eden Prime?"

The matriarch swallowed again, throat tight as if not wanting to say the words. "Our agent said they have found a beacon. It may have the information we need. It...it seems to be intact, but they are still extracting it." A pause. "They … notified the Alliance and the Council. Our agent there said the Council is sending … Nihilus."

Saren's eyes closed in agony, fist clenched. "...all things have a cost."

Benezia could only shake her head..but even that motion was stilled, the voices in her skull freezing the muscles. Saren did not notice. "Little Nihilus, all grown up and a Spectre." The voice was almost gentle, flanging tones of happier times filling the small room for a moment.

"He...is your friend?"

Saren nodded. "The only one I have, I suppose, aside from you. We turians are not ...meant to operate alone. Without others..." his voice trails off , speculative, almost...pleading.

Benezia shudders again. "You are not alone."

Saren only gives a turian smile, the gleam of needles harp fangs drawing away from the look in his eyes. "We are utterly alone, Benezia. " He turns to her, tracing his hand down her flank, taking in the slowly seeping clawmarks and the faint bruising, testament to their violent sexual release not 20 minutes ago. " We can cling in the darkness, but we both know the truth. We are a breath away from ...not being the people we are."

Benezia 's voice was softer. " I think if we were thralls, such organic urges would be suppressed." She turned away, and picked up another medigel infused bandage, which she applied to her bleeding hip.

Saren only watched. "I should … feel something. "

Benezia shook her head, as she finished her field dressing and reached for a black silk robe. "It is hard to feel anything, anymore. And we have no time to … feel. Only to .. pursue. To prove the worth of our peoples. To ...survive."

Saren exhaled, and with a growl stalked over to his armor, flung in bits from when he had stormed in and just...assaulted her. "I am still...sorry."

A pause, pregnant with emotions unspoken, and then a faint, amused chuckle. "If I hadn't wanted it, I would not have enjoyed it, Saren. I am not here to prove anything to anyone. I am here because you need me here. "

Saren grimaced, clipping the hardsuit back onto his chest. "And the cost?"

Benezia only looked at him. "I have paid and paid and paid. There is .. . no stopping now. We have to finish together what we began together. "

The two finished dressing, in silence, in companionship, in slightly empty and awkward spacing. A part of Benezia wanted to curl up and cry...a part wanted to sooth Saren, to take the pain away. A part of her just wanted to complete the task...to feel the approval of the god-machine...the ship. She placed a hand to her head, feeling her thoughts crawling in her skull , slithering about like fattened snakes feasting on the corpses of the drowned and the doomed.

Saren, across the room, just sighed. "Nihilus." Benezia said nothing , only watching, and suddenly Saren raged , angry, defiant. "NO. I will...convince him. Make him see. Let him see what we have to do to defend the galaxy. A few dead humans are not even a cost, they should be honored to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Nihilus will see. He WILL understand."

Benezia only nodded. "And my daughter?"

Saren grunted. "Located finally...on Therum. After we deal with the Beacon I'll send a team to recover her. "

Benezia frowned. "Your geth? Those krogan thugs? They'll kill her!"

Saren shook his head...albeit slowly. "They will obey my orders. We can't go ourselves...we must go to Noveria as soon as the capture is complete, to establish a firm alibi. Tynig up loose ends must wait. They'll capture and secure her, and once any blow-back has been handled, we'll pick up Liara and make our next move. "

Benezia wanted to scream , but instead only nodded. For some reason what seemed dangerous a moment ago now seemed like a calm , well rationalized plan. After all, with what would no doubt be unleashed very soon...death could be racing at them all. What if the ruse failed, if the assault failed? IF the Council … figured it all out?

Kept safe … yes. Saren's forces would protect her, keep her safe from those who would use her, kill her...until transfer prevents her from being dangerous to anyone. "Liara will … understand. "

Saren only nodded. "Good. Now to begin our path forward. " 


	6. Chapter 1: Mikhailovich

**A/n: **_Edited 5-1, cleaned up some typos, tenses and grammar._

* * *

January 22nd , 2183

"AT-TEN-_SHUN_!"

45 sets of black combat boots crashed together. 45 backs went ramrod straight.

The station was quiet, the view of the great beyond marred by glittering silver crescent hanging motionless outside the docking port. A complicated crane and gantry system nestled against the hull, poised, waiting.

45 men and women stood, prepared. Silent. Motionless.

"Present...arms!" The 10 man marine squad crashed to a new stance, shipping the Avenger battle rifles in the salute as the officers approached, then neatly pivoted to face the crew.

Rear Admiral Chan Mikhailovich was not particularly happy right now. Christening a new ship for his flotilla was usually a happy moment, another battle won with those money-grubbing corp-kissers that passed for an appropriations board in the Alliance. But the amount spent on this staggeringly useless trinket that passed as a frigate was so mind boggling that it made him almost want to scream in frustration.

And he wasn't even going to get to command it. Intolerable. _And yet, appearances must be maintained. _

The crew and their officers stood, sharp and ready looking. 12 engineers, every one of them both battle tested and college graduates, commanded by Lieutenant Greg Adams. Sharp , assistant engineer on the Tokyo. Two years past when he could have made Lieutenant Commander, simply because he had pissed off the wrong Senator. Shame. His features were even, almost bland, flat brown hair and a dour, no-nonsense face.

Operations, lead by Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressly. A staid, quiet , dependable figure. Carreer Navy man. Brilliant navigator, good with battle ops. His 18 man department was outstanding, all trained operators and most of them with fire control experience. His tired features and balding hairline were countered by his ramrod straight posture and broad shoulders. The brown eyes were alert, ready...almost excited. A man still passionate about his job. Good.

The pilot, Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau. Complete and total asshole. Best damned pilot in the fleet, maybe in history. Test and simulator scores so high they were beyond theoretical. Piloted his way out of a class six solar storm without even scratching the paint on the _Calais. _Egomaniacal asshat, but tough little bastard. Even though the agony must be killing him, the kid was standing at attention without his crutches. The rear admiral gave the man a nod of respect, and the kid stood tall even more.

_Crew like this given over to the fucking aliens, for a goddamned joyride to pickup an interactive lollipop, just to hand it over to more aliens. I am going to kill Udina. Make a fucking rug out of his stupid, hanar kissing ass. _

The marine crew shipped their arms as Captain Anderson approached, uniform perfect, his dark face set in a gentle smile. There was a hero in and of himself. First N7 commander ever. Oh, Mikhailovich knew the rumors, he had been a Spectre candidate and failed, but Mikhailovich knew David hadn't ever failed at a single thing he put his mind to. He smelled politics, the rancid scent of scurrying slime-molds in good suits sucking up to things with three fingers and no sense of smell. Pitiful.

Anderson at least looked good, sharp, ready to lead. Behind him were the rest of the command staff. The ships doctor, Major Karin Chakwas, was unknown to him but highly recommended. The marine staff lieutenant, Alenko. Biotic sentinel, good leadership skills, quiet, but dedicated. The kid looked a little nervous, but his eyes were still bright with excitement.

And finally the centerpiece. The Butcher herself, all lithe power and arrogance as she sauntered along behind Anderson like a chained panther, or a contained wildfire. Icy eyes flickering over the crew, looking for weakness, sloppy postures, anything out of place..and finding nothing, a tiny cold little smile appearing.

The officers came to attention, saluting, and Mikhailovich returned it. "Captain Anderson, I present to ships company this twenty-second day in the year of our Lord, 2183...the Systems Alliance Space Vessel … Normandy."

As he said the name, an autolauncher smashed a capsule of champagne out of the station, to shatter into a spray of vapor against the hull. At the same moment the paint gantry moved, the arms spraying out the nano-agent laced hull agents, and the name scrolled along the silvery hull in bold, black letters."

Anderson saluted, and turned to the ships station engineer, a commander who was now done with the ship. "Sir, I relieve you."

Commander Uriel Bakana returned the salute. "Sir, I stand relieved. The Normandy is ashore, Captain Anderson has the deck and the conn. VI, log the time."

A bosun's whistle rang out, and the master at arms fell into parade rest. "Puhrade...REST".

The crew matched his motion with machine like quality, and Mikhailovich sighed before speaking. "Sailors, marines, … brothers and sisters. You were slated to join my flotilla, the 63rd scout, and perform anti-pirate operations in the Skyllian Verge. These orders have been superceeded, however. Command Alliance Earth has recently installed prototype stealth technology into the Normandy, making her one of the most effective, lethal insertion vessels we have. This technology is a human invention, but the Normandy is a joint turian-human effort."

No one made a noise, but some of the faces tightened in discomfort. _Good_ , he thought. _Ship is a piece of tin but the crew is solid._"In order to facilitate your mission, you will conduct shakedown operations beginning immediately. Captain Anderson is your new commanding officer. Commander Shepard is your new executive officer. Further orders will be transmitted once on station. "

"Make me proud, Normandy." The admiral saluted, and the crew came to attention.

"FALL OUT by unit and division!"

The crew broke up, heading into the ship in segments, officers leading. Anderson and Shepard traded a single glance and Anderson raised an eyebrow. Shepard nodded and headed in, her stride cool and almost leisurely. Mikhailovich frowned. "Captain. A moment, if you will."

"Of course, sir." Captain Anderson's expression was neutral as he walked beside the rear admiral, as the last of the crew faded into the ship. "You are … familiar with Commander Shepard and her … record?"

Anderson nodded. "I worked with her a number of times, sir, and gave her the nod and recommendation for N7 training. "

Mikhailovich didn't know that. "I find that...hard to understand. David, you've always prided yourself doing it by the book, doing what's right, figuring out a way to .. play the peacemaker as well as the soldier. I don't like aliens and I don't want anything to do with 'em , and yet you manage to work with them without compromising humanity. I've always admired that about you."

"Thank you, sir."

Mikhailovich held up a thick finger, absently noting as he did so that he needed to clean his fingernails. "But that … woman...is nothing like you, and nothing like what you train your people to be."

Anderson was silent for long seconds before speaking. "She has gone through things that would leave most people broken...or dead. Mentally and physically. She will always do the .. .the actions that are best for the greater good, sir. She will always achieve her objective. She has no pity , no mercy, no … weakness, that is true. "Anderson exhaled. "And she has never shied away from casualties, either. But she has always taken ownership of … every one of her actions. "

Memories flashed across Anderson's mind...

* * *

"_Hit me."_

_The sobbing mother looked up at the glacial features of the marine, and then at Anderson in confusion. "HIT you! I want to KILL YOU! You got John killed, you got his unit killed, for what? To get revenge on some slavers? To make yourself fucking look good!"_

_Shepard stood there, unblinking, then unclipped her pistol. Disengaging the safety , she handed it to the wife of her former XO. "Then kill me, Mrs. Cole. Make this a relief for both of us."_

_The woman stared at the pistol in her hand, then back up at Shepard. "...what the hell is wrong with you?"_

_Shepard said nothing for a moment. "I'm broken somehow. I don't know how. Or why. I can't even be sorry about what happened to your husband, or say I wouldn't do it again. We completed the mission. A lot of people died so millions more could live." A pause. Muscles in her jaw flexing. "But some part of me knows what I do is .. evil. That I'm evil."_

_Those cold , blue eyes swivel down to stare at Cole's widow, who flinches, even though she's the one with the gun now. "And they keep...sending me out. They keep giving me men. Boys. Fools. They keep giving me things that can't' be done and saying to do them. And I do. And people die. And I can't even feel it."_

_Jessica Cole is shaking now, trembling, and doesn't even know why. Shepard ignores it. "So please. Take the pistol, and kill me. End it. End it for me, for you. End it before they make me do something worse." There is no fear in the eyes, no weariness. Just … blank emptiness."_

_Cole swallows. "They said you … tried to save them. " She takes in the woman, the heavy bandages, the cast, the bruises. "That you killed them all, all the batarians, even the ones who surrendered."_

_Shepard nods. "I did. I expect I'll be court-martialed, dishonorably discharged. Broken and thrown out. That would … also be good."_

_And suddenly Cole can't take it anymore, flinging the pistol aside and stepping closer. "So that John died for NOTHING? So he drew those slavers off for nothing! I can't feel fucking sorry for you, you're a goddamned monster. I feel sorry for everyone you have gotten killed in your career. I feel sorry for those you are in command of. But I'll never feel sorry for you. I hope it hurts to keep on living. I hope they give you a fucking medal and make you wear it the rest of your life. I hope it never , ever ends, because it won't for us. "_

_Shepard says nothing, eyes still. Then she slowly bends over and picks up the pistol, shipping it at her waist. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Cole. I'll leave you to your grief. "_

_She pivots smoothly on one heel despite her injuries, walking without hesitancy or seeming pain. Anderson knows that, in her head, she still hears the widow shrieking...one of thousands now, all hating her , all despising her. _

* * *

Anderson shook his head. "Chan...you can't understand that woman. But she's … a good person inside. It just doesn't get much chance to show. Trust me on this."

Mikhailovich looked across at the ship, exhaling. "No choice but to do so. She's out of my chain of command now, son. " The rear admiral handed the captain a datapad. "Prior to transit to Eden Prime you are to report to the Citadel and pick up a turian Spectre...Nihilus Krylik. You won't need to dock, he's currently onboard the SSV _K2._Flew out on some kind of turian shuttle. Pick it up. He will be observing and qualifying Commander Shepard during this process."

Anderson nodded. "...then I'll be off. I'll keep you in the loop, sir."

Mikhailovich snorted. "Be the first time I was in it, so don't stress over it too much. Get that overpriced tin heap outta my docks."

The rear admiral watched as the ship sealed, and undocked, and as it transited out from Arcturus, and as it vanished into that distant night sky, before sighing and turning away, back towards his office, and paperwork, and mediocrity, and struggling against bureaucratic fucks.


	7. Chapter 2 : Departure

January 23nd , 2183

"Hitting the relay in 3...2...1..."

The _Normandy _is alive with rivulets of static discharge as it storms out of the mass corridor generated by the awesome relay next to it , arriving in a blue-shifted burst of light and heat, outlined against the stark energies of the ancient FTL device. Immediately, the ship begins to reconfigure, it's outboard engines sliding down and back along hydraulic pylons, heat sink exchanges vented to space .

The ship skims a bit across the endless expanse of space, as inside the cockpit Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau finishes his checklist. "1900k drift, sir."

Anderson nods. "Good, Joker. Should be an incoming shuttle, go ahead and open the hangar bay frontal door."

Joker taps a few controls on the gold-gleaming haptic interface, the holographic keyboard shunting aside with a few taps to reveal the egress control panel. "Now hear this. Now hear this. All hands, stand clear the hangar bay for decompression and entry. I repeat, all hands stand clear the hanger bay for decompression and entry."

A moment, and a red light shines green on his panel as the armory officer steps into engineering and the pressure doors seal. "Opening doors, sir." Anderson nods again, eyes on the harsh lines of the triangular shuttle now visible on the forward bow. "Shepard?"

The XO is there, voice pitched low and calm. "Yes, captain?"

Anderson inclines his head towards the back of the ship. "Meet our guest with a few marines, if you don't mind, and escort him the communications room. He should be alone. Ensure that."

Shepard salutes and walks down the comm/ops corridor towards the CIC. Around her, the four fire control officers each watch over a panel comprised of one part dirty electronic tricks, one part anti-missile defense, one part active scanning, and one part gunnery station for GARDIAN lasers. Taking three steps down into the CIC, she observes Pressely taking nav readings and a handful of electronics techs monitoring the heat bleed from the hull.

She steps past the marine CIC sentry, who salutes, and down the shallow stairwell, eyes narrowed, depe in thought. She has worked with turians three times before, and knows how most of them work. Honor and duty are primary, communal benefit and duty to the nation and government before personal needs. All in all, utterly boring, easily manipulated, good fighters and tactical planners but politically inept and too quick to judge , dismiss and thus underestimate others.

A turian spectre would be either all of that amplified , or … completely different. She entered the elevator shaft, slapping the controls for the hangar deck, and brushed a piece of lint from her uniform. _Either way, he's likely to be looking for something. I really , really wish Anderson would tell me what's going on, this is no damned shakedown run, and the crew is going to freak when they realize we're loading on a damned Spectre. _She never liked the idea of Spectres, flashy Council superagents who were above the law. It was one thing to assign trash to get the job done, after all, if you have to use someone on a throw away job, it might as well be someone you want to throw away. It was another to assign a bonafide hero to a position guaranteed to put him in a bad place.

Sara Shepard figured whatever it was about, it was nothing...good. The elevator doors opened as the hanger re-pressurized, and 6 marines marched sharply out of engineering. In sotto voice, she murmured, "good timing, gentlemen", and one of the marines grinned as they all snapped to perfect attention directly behind her, just as the shuttle door opened.

For a turian, Nihlus Kryik was a big guy. Compared to humans, he was gigantic. Standing well over seven feet tall, his already barrel chest amplified by his customized battle armor in blood red and black, the turian stepped down from the shuttle alone, and with a motion of joints that seemed subtly wrong, came to his full height. He was armed to the teeth and beyond – a modified Revenant light machine gun hung across his back, while two Tornado-class shotguns, each one with a shortened, widened mass chamber, hung from oversized holsters on a wide armored belt festooned with grenades. Most worryingly of all, a massive block of metal with a sniper scope peeked over one shoulder.

_That isn't a gun. That's a fucking anti-aircraft cannon. _Shepard only minutely shook her head and stepped forward. "Spectre Nihlus? Commander Shepard, XO, SSV Normandy. Captain Anderson is waiting to brief you in our communication rooms."

The turian eyed her curiously. His eyes were a shade of green, she noted absently, his skin dark brown highlighted with bright metallic white tattoos of his colony. Under the plating his skin was a chocolate color. His stance was calm, casual, and almost ...predatory. It looked familiar somehow, to Shepard, but she couldn't place from where. His voice was a soft growl, harmonic undertones giving it an almost dirge-like cast. "Of course, Commander. Lead the way."

Human and turian left the shuttle bay as the marine escort filed out, the bay preparing to vent to allow the shuttle to leave. The elevator moved up, slowly, the two warriors saying nothing as it finally slid open on the crew deck. "This is our main crew deck, the comm room is on the CIC level." Shepard's voice was even, but the turian barely glanced around before refocusing his gaze on Shepard, green eyes intense.

They walked up the stairs, the doors to the CIC sliding open as the sentry crashed to attention. Saluting, Shepard walked past the galaxy map towards the short corridor leading the comms room. The ship shuddered as the hanger bay disgorged the turian fighter/shuttle Nihlus had arrived on."Right this way, sir."

The turian entered, the comms room it's usual dull, grey shade. Captain Anderson stood in the middle of the circular room, talking to a hologram on the vidscreen. "Of course, Admiral. En route now, Normandy out." The link disconnected and Anderson turned around to face the two. "Spectre Nihlus, welcome aboard the Normandy. Your trip went well?"

Nihlus paused, then nodded, a very human gesture. "Of course, Captain. Your facilities were quite impressive, they even got me a dextro-meal of … surprising quality."

Anderson nodded, gesturing to seats, but no one sat. "Very good. The mess decks loaded up dextro supplies and the menu list from Arcturus, we'll see your stay is equally amiable. One of our sleeper pods has been reconfigured for turian physiology and size as well, sir. And feel free to use the terminal here, in the comm room, for any secure connections that might be needed. Our doctor is trained in turian physiology and medicine if … you have any medical issues that may arise."

The spectre nodded again. "Very good. I presume Commander Shepard will be staying for this briefing, given it's purpose?"

Shepard turned from Nihlus to Anderson. "Sir?"

Anderson sighed and sat, gesturing for the other two to do so as well . This time they took the hint, sitting down , facing each other. "Shepard, your unit conducted a raid on Tor Shan about a month ago, killing a pirate named Grathias, a turian ..extremist. This person was responsible for the deaths of several very important figures to Citadel governance...including one of Councilor Tevos' daughters."

Shepard paused. "I am … glad the Alliance was of service to the Council , of course, but that doesn't explain … this. "

Anderson's smile grew almost bitter. 'I'm getting there. Humanity has been arguing for a while now that we need a bigger role in the Coucil, in determining the path humanity takes. We've been colonizing like mad in the Verge and the Traverse, but the ugly truth is that we don't have the military power to protect all these colonies. Without a voice on the Council, the Alliance spends too much time catering to megacorps and their interests. The first step to proving to the galaxy that the Alliance can handle itself is to let them see our best and brightest."

Shepard paused. "So, where is Commander Branson?" She felt her voice go a little bitter. The so-called "Hero of Elysium" was a glory-seeking jackass, arrogant and smug, but he was also the golden boy of humanity, peering out from every recruiting poster and holovid.

Anderson didn't answer that, instead continuing. "The Alliance, and the Citadel Council, have agreed that it's time Humanity had a Spectre. As such, names were put forward for consideration, and a mission of critical importance that needed this kind of oversight was fast-tracked. The Normandy is responding to this mission, which we'll cover in a moment."

Shepard nodded. "Ah. We'll be backing Branson up while the turian here evaluates him, then?"

For the first time the turian shook his head."Commander, the recommendation of the human government, Alliance military, and Ambassador Udina was you."

Shepard felt herself go very, very still, and she slowly turned to face Anderson. "Sir, I am not … sure that is a wise idea."

The turian spoke again. "And after reviewing the other candidates, I have to agree with their recommendation. You are the only one who can understand what it's like to be one of us. It is not a job for heroes. Or those concerned with anything but galactic peace. Whatever the price. Whatever the cost. " He gave a look at Anderson , who grimaced but nodded .

Sara Shepard smoothed the front of her uniform and merely nodded. "And the mission?"

Anderson looked away. "Standard pickup. A dig team on Eden Prime uncovered several Prothean ruins, including an intact Prothean beacon. This could be the biggest scientific development in over 50 years, Shepard. The last time we uncovered unspoiled ruins like this -"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah, I can see that. And a spectre on the shakedown run makes sense, something this vital, if word got out, would attract not just pirates but special interests, wetwork teams, god knows what kind of interest from nutjobs like Cerberus and the Shadow Broker..." Shepard exhaled. "Mission parameters?"

Anderson straightened in his seat. "We're already on course for the relay to Eden Prime. Once in-system, we'll establish comms with the ground team. Nihlus will be observing you but you will be in overall command. Take a team, secure the site, and a Council archeology team lead by Dr. Sanaris of the University of Serrice will arrive to analyze it and oversee it for transport to the Citadel. En route, we'll provide security."

Anderson stood. "After that, I believe this will be the first of several missions conducted by the Normandy with Nihlus on board to asses your … skillset. Assuming all goes well, you would be inducted into the ranks and given training within a month."

Nihlus nodded. "From what I've read of your record and achievements, this should not be a difficult series of tasks."

Anderson nodded back, and folded his arms. "If that's all, I have to prepare a mission report for the Council. Shepard, my quarters, please." He walked out, and with a glance back at the turian, Shepard followed, almost stiffly.

The trip down the stairs to Anderson's tiny stateroom was made in silence, but as soon as both were inside, Anderson gave an exhale of breath and sat down on the sectional couch in the corner of the room."Alright, Sara, lay it on me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Lay it on you? How about are you out of your _ever-fucking MIND_? A Spectre, me? Really? Who the fuck thought THAT was a good idea? 'Hey, wouldn't it be funny if we made the crazy suicidal bitch with zero tact into James Bond?' Who put this fucking concept together?"

Anderson sighed, and leaned over to flip open a panel in the wall, withdrawing a single bottle of scotch and two plastic tumblers. He set them both down, carefully, as the ship shuddered with the thrust of FTL acceleration. "Major Kyle did , actually."

If anything Sara's gaze got even colder. "Because the guy suffering PTSD is a good judge of character. David, you can't do this to me. This is not going to work. When I asked for a transfer to front-line space units – "

Anderson cut her off, his own voice raising. "Dammit, Sara, you wanted to be given a suicide mission! I won't have it. Not now, not ever. You're a good solder, the best damned soldier I ever had the pleasure to train. I know it is not easy to live with Torfan. What they made you into. What happened. I know you never really got over … your past. But this is a chance for Humanity to move forward, and we can't do it with half-measures."

He clenched his jaw. "20 years ago, they tapped me for this program. To be a Spectre. " He looked up, seeing the surprise in his XO's face. "Oh yes. Partnered me with a Spectre, sent me out to prove myself. But I wasn't ruthless enough. I wasn't .. . hard enough. Paranoid enough. I trusted, and I was betrayed, and very nearly killed. And even today it haunts me."

Anderson poured the scotch, three fingers for each glass, then capped it, before taking one and swallowing, "The psych profile says you hate yourself. That you want to die, but that you're just too good to do so." Another swallow. "Maybe you think if you martyr yourself for a big enough reason, that all that you've done in the past will be forgiven – that if you die it will somehow make up for it. " He looked up, eyes calm and quiet, and shook his head slowly."But it doesn't work that way, Shepard. This is not a chance for you to die in some attempt to atone for being born the way you were. But to actually improve the lives, the futures, of all humanity. "

Shepard only looked at the floor. "I am not a hero. Kyle must have told you. Delacor must have told you."

Anderson pushed the glass across the table, in Shepard's direction. "I knew all I needed to know about you that day a gang banging kid threw herself into bullets to save my life. You've done bad things. But you had nothing to … compare to. And you have always done what was needed. Torfan ..."

"Don't talk about Torfan. Please."

Anderson shrugged, then shook his head. "Am I your friend, Sara?"

A small, uncomfortable silence. "I... don't deserve that."

Anderson gave a tiny smile. "Didn't ask that. Am I your friend?"

Sara looked up. "...yes. The only one I have." She didn't move as he stood up, and handed her the glass of scotch, and put a firm hand on her shoulder. "Then trust me, this one time. You spent your whole childhood and teenage years doing evil, because that's all you had. Parents who sold you into prostitution for drugs. A drug-addicted gang life because you were trying to survive. Murders and crimes in the name of just living one more day."

"Then I pull you out of that shit, get you clean, get you a uniform. And you push yourself to be the best. To never fail , never quit, never give up. Perfect scores. Perfect reviews. Never drunk, never late, always leading your troops. And when the brass put you in a spot where you had to survive, you did so. And you hated it. You felt like you had gone back to being that monster you were, willing to do anything to just live one more day, except now you threw yourself into every crazy assault trying to die."

Sara said nothing, but drank. Anderson squeezed her shoulder."But I know you, Shepard. The reports say you lead your men at Torfan into a grinder, killing all the surrendering batarians. That you used your men as bait in many situations. What they never fucking mention is you were always in the front. You were always the one shot up, bloody, nearly dead. The bait in that trap always included you. That you killed those batarians clean , rather than let your men torture them to death."

His eyes grew intense. "Every time you've killed those who surrendered after a fight, the fear of you grew. But you never killed anyone who surrendered without a fight. You made very sure people knew the cost of fighting you , of fighting the Alliance. And that... is what we need now."

Anderson let his hand drop, and stepped back. "You can tell yourself you are a monster, or listen to those who didn't have the nerve to do what had to be done. But if you hadn't done what you did at Torfan, how many thousands more civilians would be dead, captured, raped, enslaved? If you didn't push the way you did at Dirth and Terra Nova, how many pirate captains would still be ravaging our colonies?"

She shook her head, but didn't speak. Anderson grimaced. "I won't let my best soldier destroy herself. Not without a fight. I need you on this, Shepard. I don't trust any other human with the kind of power a Spectre has. Too many would fall in love with their own judgment. Their own ...arrogance that they are always right. And then they would fail."

A pause."But you won't. I trust you with that. And … so does the Alliance. And even Udina."

The woman's eyes came up slowly, filled with pain for a moment, before clearing, and going to icy blue calmness. "Then I won't fail, sir."

Anderson smiled. "That's my girl. Get up to the cockpit and make sure Joker brings us up clean, I have to get this report off to the Council and … brief the University of Serrice team of what's happening."

Shepard saluted, and turned to leave, but paused before exiting. "Sir...this still isn't right. On that last mission.. I did something I shouldn't have. I … "

Anderson only nodded. "I know, Shepard. I know what Thalia was responsible for, also. She was the one who dealt in red sand to Jackson , the one you blamed all these years for ending up the way you were. And you wanted her to hurt and pay before she died. It wasn't right. And I expect you never, ever to violate the trust I have in you like that again. Are we clear?"

Sara nodded. "Yes, sir." Straightening her back, she stepped out, the door closing behind her with a weighty thud. Anderson regarded the two empty glasses of scotch on the table, and poured himself another, grimacing, Delacor's last words echoing in his mind.

"_There isn't a PERSON in there anywhere! She's a fucking demon! I've seen her kill CHILDREN! I've seen her shoot down surrendering soldiers and kick dying men to death. I've seen her sacrifice a dozen marines to kill one batarian and then torture him to death! She's fucking sick!"_

He drained the glass, and turned to his terminal. "God, I hope this works."


	8. Chapter 3 : Eden Prime , Arrival

**January 23nd , 2183**

"Get down!"

Screaming blasts of plasma fire streamed overhead, as Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams skidded across the smooth concrete of the dig site into a position of cover. Lethal blue darts smashed into the rubble next to her, splinters of white-hot concrete splashing at impact to patter impotently against her shields.

Another blast caught Corporal Brin in the face, obliterating her entire upper torso in a flash of heat and wave of smoke, the smell of cooking flesh and melting plas-steel almost making Williams gag in her helmet. The ruined shell of the woman's body slid backwards, Avenger rifle tumbling from nervous hands as the corpse crumpled into a messy, leaking pile. Private Jackson had only a second to stare in horror before he was nearly torn in half by another plasma blast, his shriek of pain trailing off as his upper body literally melted into the waist high low wall that defined the edge of the dig.

Cursing and blinking back hot tears of frustration and rage – and fear – Williams popped up, firing at will. Her Avenger chattered hotly, the heat-sink glowing with the results of her fire, her shots stitching across the obscenely organic looking front of a geth sniper, tearing gaping wounds into it's silvery surface. The machine gave a chittering, mechanical cry as white fluid burst forth, but Williams was already firing again, this time finding the glowing orb of the geth unit next to the first, shattering it into darkness and sending the machine spinning to collapse on the ground.

Next to her, Lieutenant Parker calmly fired his sniper rifle, picking off 3 geth with 3 carefully placed shots. "Keep it steady, chief. We're gonna get through this."

"Y-yes sir." Williams swallowed. Sweat ran into her eyes, blurring her vision, and she blinked them clear, her grip tightening on her Avenger. "Ready."

"Move. Left, then up. " The lieutenant fired one more time, shipping his now overheated sniper rifle and pulling out a pistol. The Carnifex barked 3 times, loud hammer blows through the thick , sultry air of Eden Prime, and then the two of them ran for it.

"This is Lieutenant James Parker, executive officer of the 212 regiment. Anyone, respond. We are overrun by geth, I repeat, the dig site is overrun by … " he trailed off, slamming into cover, as an explosion tore through the air, so powerful that a blast of wind sailed past. He looked up in awe, seeing the clouds in the sky pushed away, and then trained his gaze to the left.

A gigantic black thing - a leaf - a squid - a torn body... he couldn't make it out what it was, but it had just sheared one of the arcology towers in half with a single blast. It fell, tumbling to pieces, and tiny struggling figures fell with it, distant shrieks ending with sickening finality as the top of the tower detonated violently.

Williams vomited, next to him, and he felt himself nearly faint. The noise in the air was a buzzsaw, cutting through his mind.. The sky was blazing with fires, the forests to the south nothing but burning embers and choking black smoke billowing into the sky. Parker shook himself out of his own daze, eyes dark with determination and fear both. "...we have to keep moving, Williams. Move that ass, soldier."

She nodded, pulling her helmet off and wiping her mouth. "Shit!" Her rifle whipped up, firing, and shriek of digital pain told Parker she had just dropped another geth. He grabbed her wrist and ran on, between two pre-fab units that were used to store some of the finds of the dig site. He crouched, pausing, as two more geth came into view, and with a flick of his wrist hurled his last contact grenade, the flat disk skidding to a stop between them. The two geth units looked down stupidly, a second before it detonated, blowing them both to scrap and a wash of milky fluids.

He pushed on, face grim, Williams covering his six. "Just a bit farther to the transmit tower, kiddo." The two marines ran full out, stumbling over bodies here and there, even as more geth poured down into the dig area. Parker heard desperate firing, the uncoordinated staccato rhythm of panic. Above it all he heard the hard, bass voice of Master Chief Cole. "Come on, you tin can mother fuckers. I got _lots_ more love for you bastards. Bhatia, to your six. Jones, suppressive fire. Oh, you want some too, fucker? " Another long string of fire as they rounded the corner, smoke and plasma mist occluding his view.

Cole stood there, firing his heavy Revenant LMG one handed, while his other had lifted a geth trooper into the air, the machine thrashing helplessly in his giant grip even as it's head was slowly crushed under the power of his synthetic arm. Cole's armor was rent with smoking holes, his right eye missing, his dark skin scorched in places. Six dead geth were scattered at his feet, and with a grunt his hand closed fully, the geth in his hand crumbling under the straining hydraulics of his grip, and falling to a limp silence.

He tossed it aside, firing again with the LMG in his left hand, the heavy accelerated shells ripping the last two geth almost completely in two. "Good to see you , sir. Bhatia, Jones, Morris, fall in." The three marines behind him stood from cover, blood soaked and wounded, and Bhatia was limping, her right arm a melted mess tied off with a rag and a pack of medigel.

"Good work, Master Chief." Parker nodded to the small transmission tower. "Something jamming our comms with Central , but I think we can punch through it with this, it's designed to link to the HE3 station even during a solar storm. The 280 is gone...the 234 is gone. And this is all that's left of the 212. We are beyond fucked if we can't get the 410 here fast. What's our status?"

"Not good, sir. We don't have much more ammo, that's how hot the fight's been. Few more minutes and we'll be down to big poppas and pop guns". Cole used marine slang for heavy pistols and light pistols, his dark face covered in sweat. "No medigel either. And Jones has on a k-suit, not even full armor. We need extraction quick or we're toasted."

Parker sighed. "We have to broadcast first, or there's not much chance of any extraction. I'll need cover-"

Cole just grunted, interrupting him. "Williams, cover the LT while he broadcasts. "He paused, pulling up a map on his omni-tool. "Sir, we got more incoming, from the archeologists camp and down from the valley. There's no way out of this canyon, less we're gonna rappel down to the lower valley floor. What are your orders after you finish the broadcast?"

Parker closed his eyes, then opened them, gazing at the obscene black ship that squatted almost arrogantly over the spaceport. "Get the signal out to the Alliance. Let them know we're under attack, the Beacon taken. Then hold here as long as we can. "

Cole was silent a long second, eyes meeting the lieutenants. He then saluted, and extended his hand. "Die like a bastard, sir."

Parker swallowed and gripped the artificial hand tightly. "Shoot it like you stole it, top." He turned away, and Williams followed, unlimbering her sniper rifle. Cole turned back to the other three soldiers. "If we don't hold this damned position, the colony dies. The people we swore to protect die. Our families, die." The black master chief pulled out a cigarette and lit it, puffing calmly. "I'm proud of all of you. We stood where no other motherfucker cold have stood. Less than ten of us dropped over 200 fucking geth. Now, you all heard the LT. So let's get it done. Bhatia, position left, use your M-77 launcher to keep their heavies off of us. Jones, shotgun, keep them from closing. Morris, you and I will will suppress them while Williams picks them off with her sniper. "

Bhatia nodded shakily, her dark features set in determination, pushing glossy black hair out of her face. "I... we are going to die, are we not?"

Cole just looked at her, his remaining eye black and unflinching. "We're gonna die, Nirali. We can't change that. But if we have to die, we're going to make the geth remember us. We're gonna fuck them up so **bad** that a thousand years from now those bastards will flinch just _hearing_ the name Eden Prime." He ejected the ammo block from his Revenant, and slotted in a fresh one, racking the slide. "Are you with me, Private?"

Bhatia blinked away tears, but saluted, and her mouth set in a firm line. "Semper fi, Master Chief."

"Damn straight. Get to your positions." He jutted his chin out, feeling the shot he had taken to his side keenly. Medigel wouldn't stop him from going septic with his damn liver blown open.

Inside the pre-fab transmission unit, Parker was dumping everything from his omni-tool. "Any units, this is Lieutenant James Parker, XO of the 212nd infantry on Eden Prime. We are overrun by geth, they have destroyed two arcology towers and are assaulting the spaceport. We need immediate assistance, I repeat, immediate assistance. ANYONE, please respond."

The line was dead...static filled. Outside he heard the malicious chatter of the geth as they began to surround their position, the whump-thud of Bhatia firing her missile launcher. Williams was at the small window in the pre-fab, her sniper rifle speaking death to synthetics, but he could hear her mumbling under her breath... "cannon to the left of them...cannon to the right of them..."

"This is Lieutenant Parker, is anyone out there! "

Static. A blast, rocking the whole side of the prefab, and geth storming forward. He heard Cole's angry below, the ripping chainsaw sound of his LMG spitting 1.2 cm death in all directions, the boom of Jones's beloved shotgun as he took down a geth trooper trying to close in . They were all going to die.

"...shrkss...this is Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy, incoming. ETA 11 minutes. Hold your position."

Parker's head snapped up, eyes wide. "A..acknowledged. We are almost overrun. Transmitting signal data. "He punched up what he could on his omni-tool...he knew it was a mess , having no time to clean it up and organize it, but he sent what he could, images, logs, maps of the colony. "Be advised, geth are on the ground in battalion strength or greater."

"Understood, Parker. You will hold that position. We ARE coming."

"Yes, ma'am." He turned, lifting his chin, and slammed next to Williams. "Marines, we got reinforcements. We just gotta hold out until they get here."

Cole barked laughter, his right shoulder shattered by geth fire, using the low edge of the ramp in front of the prefab as cover and support for his LMG. "Fuckers had better hurry. I think I finally got them good and pissed off now." He paused to direct fire into the chest of a geth with a rocket launcher, the slugs shearing the machine apart like a knife through butter.

Parker nodded, unslinging his sniper rifle. "Let's kick ass, marines."

* * *

"Hitting the relay in … 3...2...1...prepare for transition."

The Normandy erupted into blue-shifted fire, silver hull gleaming hotly in the light of the star Utopia. Immediately downshifting into battle mode, the Normandy angled towards the planet, a dagger screaming towards it's mark.

On the hanger deck, marines scrambled into battle armor, and rifles clattered to the deck for a final inspection. Doctor Chakwas was injecting each marine with a field booster, in case of any biowarfare weapons on the ground. The ship shuddered, sending people staggering. A heavy crate of ordinance intended for the Mako , the armored tank in the hangar bay , broke free, sliding down and out towards Corporal Jenkins, who could only watch as it slammed towards him -

-only to feel himself wrenched away at the last second by a aura of blue, bending him almost double and slamming him very hard into the side of the Mako, the container missing him by mere inches. Lieutenant Alenko let his hand drop, trembling with the effort, and Chakwas rushed over to Jenkins. "You saved his life , Alenko...but let's hope you didn't break his back..."

With a grunt, though, Jenkins popped up from where he had crumbled to the deck, a wild smile on his face. "Holy SHIT, LT, I was flying! That was AWESOME!"

Alenko gave an amused snort, trying to hide how relieved he was that Jenkins was okay. "Sorry about the rough ride, but I couldn't be sure I could handle that crate." He turned and tapped the comm relay on the door. "Christ, Joker, what the hell just happened, we almost got crushed by an ammo crate after that little dodge."

The voice on the comm unit was not Joker. "Lieutenant Moreau evaded incoming fire from a geth destroyer and took it out." Commander Shepard's voice was like frozen silk. "Readiness of the ground team?"

Alenko exhaled. "We are prepped, locked and loaded, ma'am."

"Good work. Bridge out. Be ready in 5."

Alenko turned back to the marines. "You heard the lady, jump to. If we just got shot at by geth, I don't think this is a simple shakedown run anymore,boys and girls. Get disruptor ammo from the armory and make it fast, we need to be ready in 3 minutes. Move it!"

* * *

"Reverse and hold at 38.5". Anderson's voice was tense, strained, as he , Shepard and Nihlus reviewed the mess of video images the lieutenant on Eden Prime had sent.

Now frozen on the screen was a black ship, almost a mile long, piercing the smoke-stained sky of Eden Prime, it's lower section like a grasping, vile hand reaching out to crush all beneath it. It was wreathed in red lightning, like a nightmare out of some bad 21st century sci-fi movie.

"What the hell is that?" Shepard voiced what was in Anderson's head. "Scale indicates it's almost … no, much larger than a dreadnaught. What is that thing?"

Nihlus's mandible's moved in an unsure gesture of nervousness, but he said nothing. Anderson turned away. "The mission just got a lot more complicated. Joker, take us in, fast and hot, weapons loose."

Turning to Shepard, he spoke. "Three objectives. Secure the team at that transmission tower, recover the beacon, and find out what the hell is going on. I can't think of any enemy worse than the Geth to get their hands on a Prothean Beacon. You are to destroy it if you can't secure it , if needed."

Shepard nodded. "I'll take a small team, Alenko and one of the marines, to secure the dig site. The rest of the team can secure the survivors in the Mako." She turned to Nihlus , raising an eyebrow. "Will you be accompanying me?"

The turian shook his head. "Not the time to play games with assessments. I'll go in by the spaceport, see if I can't find out what's going on and get data on that … ship. We'll meet up at the spaceport for extraction, if possible. I move faster on my own." With that, he left the comms room, leaving Shepard and Anderson alone.

"I'll go suit up, sir. We doing a hot drop?"

Anderson nodded, and grimaced. "I'll get 4th fleet on the line..we have to recover what we can and get out quick, we cannot survive a slugging match with that monster of a ship, our kinetic barriers can't repel firepower of that magnitude." Anderson turned to Shepard. "Get your team ready, you move in five."

Shepard nodded, and departed, mind full of the things she'd need to get done.


	9. Chapter 4 : Eden Prime, Rescue

January 23nd , 2183

"You are go for insertion."

The Normandy screamed out of the sky, GARDIAN lasers blazing in every direction, swatting down geth dropships like the hand of an angry god. Roaring from it's open hangar bay was 20 tons of promised death, double coaxial mass accelerator spitting 2000 rounds of 3.2 cm death every minute , the main gun firing even as it's eezo-core thrusters eased its slam into the battered concrete near the transmission tower.

Master Sergeant Cole lit another cigarette, smirking as he inhaled and then shot a geth with his free hand, the barrel of his Predator smoking. "Marines! We - are – leaving!" His features were tired and sweat-streaked, his bald head gleaming in the sun.

Lieutenant Parker and Gunnery Chief Williams stormed out of cover, rapid firing bursts from their assault rifles, catching two gun drones in their crossfire and blowing them out of the sky to waver and crash into a stand of pines down the road leading up to the tower. The Mako slammed to a stop, it's back hatch splitting open into three sections, and the Normandy marines spilled out, already forming a firing line.

Cole turned towards the one in charge, a staff sergeant. "Master Sergeant Cole. We got 1 dead, one seriously wounded. Can we extract?"

Staff Sergeant Masterson nodded. His black hair cut close to his scalp, the big marine hoisted his heavy rifle and spoke, voice low and grim. "We can, but it won't be easy. If that … " he gestured towards the spaceport and the giant ship squatted there "...monster ..gets into the air, the Normandy is going to have to skedaddle."

Suddenly Commander Shepard's voice broke through the comm. "Nihlus is on the ground, but we've got too much ground fire here. Masterson, we'll be at your location in 3, secure for drop. "

The marine nodded. "Yes'm." He glanced past Cole to the figure of the Lieutenant walking up. "Sir, Commander Shepard is incoming. Our orders are to evac your squad and secure the Beacon. Holding here until she arrives, sir."

Parker frowned, glancing out past the edge of the ruined ring of buildings that once surrounded the transmission tower. The firefight to hold the place had been ugly and intense, the geth had poured in so much incoming fire that , with the exception of Williams, every remaining member of his squad was a wreck with multiple wounds, and poor Bhatia had been nearly cooked alive, hit by some geth version of a plasma flamethrower. "Understood, sergeant, but none of our except Williams are still combat effective. All my guns are melted through , heat sinks shot."

The sergeant nodded. "Understood sir, let's get your squad inside the Mako while we set up a perimeter. We can get some basic first aid going, at least. "He paused, then snapped orders. "Marlenko, Cavvish, support the LT's squad. Everyone else, active perimeter. Calhoun, keep that turret hot."

The next few minutes were eerily quiet, the last of the 212 herded into the Mako to rest. The LT sat wearily in the back of the armored vehicle, exhausted mind racing even as one of the Normandy marines stripped his armor and began patching his most serious wounds with medigel. "Something doesn't make sense, Cole. Why aren't they rushing us any more?"

The master sergeant had gone very pale for his complexion, his one good eye barely open. A bloody medigel soaked bandage covered half his face, as he lay flat on one of the benches, a portible medicomp beeping dire messages in binary as it read his vitals. "Regrouping...or more likely, waiting for a heavy unit. That's what I figure. "

The Mako buffeted in a heavy wind, and the LT looked outside the back hatch to see an Alliance frigate hover over the field, and 3 figures fall out of the front hatch. The flanking pair were clearly more marines, nondescript in plain blue armor. But the third...

The LT smiled coldly.

She walked with an almost arrogant roll, chin lifted, an Avenger held loosely in one hand like a part of her body. Yet somehow he knew this was no arrogant fool, or someone too caught up in her own skill to be cautious. The coveted red-and-white stripe and N7 device picked out in silver instead of brass spoke of only one thing.

Lethality beyond the measure of any other human special forces member alive.

Commander Shepard walked over to the Mako, putting one black-armored foot against the sill of the hatch, and locked gazes with Lieutenant Parker."Good job holding, LT. I need a sit rep."

Parker nodded. "It's a bit of a mess, ma'am. We were perimeter security for the excavation site. We really didn't expect them to find anything worth much. They'd been digging for years and only finding bits and pieces, but suddenly they hit the jackpot."

He closed his eyes, voice becoming bitter. "When it became obvious what we had, I wanted to reinforce the site with every unit on the fucking planet, but Major Dorston felt that would be "reckless". He only put the 212 and 280 on active duty here. Both light infantry regiments. We had, between us, maybe 200 effectives all together. The 235, light armor, was put on perimeter patrol at the 132 highway between Tower Attican and Tower Montana, the nearest civilian access. But the 410, the heavy infantry battalion with all our support, was kept at Tower Central, 500 miles away. "

Shepard shook her head, a look of disgust on her face. "And then what?"

Parker shrugged, wincing as his bandages shifted. "First few hours , just watched the archeology guys. First and second burst transmissions went out without a hitch. We sent our initial data packet off to the University of Serrice...and then 3 hours ago all hell broke loose. Six geth frigates came out of nowhere and blew the shit out of the defense sats, and two more went to town on on our GARDIAN lasers. Last we heard from the 235 was that the geth were coming down in fucking battalion strength .. or greater."

He sighed. "Major Dorston couldn't be raised on the comm. Lieutenant Commander Garcia, my CO, had the 212 and 280 form a defensive perimeter around the dig site and the archeologists living area. We locked the scientists in and barricaded ourselves up, set prox mines, dug in as best we could. We figured it would only be a while until Dorston got on the comm and the 410 came in to kick ass. But that never happened."

His eyes took on a haunted look. "Geth came out of everywhere. Kill one, six more show up. Guns that go right through your shields, drones popping out of nowhere to rain rockets on you. I lost 65 men in 3 minutes, and the CO bought it trying to fall back to the Beacon." He swallowed. "Pretty much everyone broke at that point, except the platoons with Cole and Williams, they kept fighting back and held the line long enough for us to … get to cover. "He shook his head. "Not long after that, the geth came up from behind us...I figure they shot their way through the marines who broke and ran. Then it was just us, sir, falling back to here. That's all I know."

Shepard nodded, the look on her face emotionless and calm. "We'll handle it from here-" she broke off as an explosion sounded behind her.

"Geth incoming!"

She rolled to her left, coming up behind a low wall, and her eyes widened as she saw the hulking red figure of a Geth Prime striding along the middle of the road, multifunction weapon arm spitting minirockets at the line of marines to her right. "Evasive, fire for effect!"

Her men fired back immediately, as Corporal Jenkins and Lieutenant Alenko slid into cover next to her. "What's the plan, Commander?" Jenkins asked, his once eager features now distorted with rage at what had been done to his birth world. Shepard exhaled. "First, drop the damned Prime. Evac the wounded and find the Beacon. It's either still at the digsite, or at the spaceport. And we need to link up with Nihlus at some point."

Shepard tapped her omni-tool, and smiled. "Mizia fire pattern, full auto!"

The marines with her all opened up on the Prime in irregular , staccato bursts, designed to frustrate the compensation computers in the geth's shielding units. Shepard broke cover, firing at the two geth flanking the Prime who carried flamethrowers. Her shots were true, two head shots to the one on the left, blasting the eye-light to pieces and leaving nothing but a shattered wreck for white fluid to sluice out of as it collapsed. The other one fired, but her third and fourth shots shattered it's hip-joint. It staggered, playing the hot flames over the Prime unit, who recoiled as the plasma jet seared past it's shielding to it's armor ,blinding it's sensors.

Alenko popped up, his biotics picking up a long spar of construction material and flinging it with all his strength towards the prime. Blue flames raced down the length of the piece of metal as it accelerated through the air to strike the Prime in the chest, staggering the monster again, before two Marines opened up with ML-77 missile launchers, blasting the 12-foot war machine to pieces and sending other geth scurrying back to cover.

But the geth were not content to cower, and snipers fired. Six shots rang out, most striking and sparking on shields. But three were targeted at Jenkins, still holding his missile launcher. Two flared his shields , and the last once lanced through his helmet, blasting out the back of his head in a wash of blood, bone and grey matter to spatter messily over the marine next to him.

Shepard gritted her teeth, and clenched her fist, biotic energy racing over her body. With a lunge she was over the wall and then she _flashed_, a blue streak of biotic rage slamming into the sniper with the force of a freight train, reappearing in a storm of mass energies. The sniper staggered back , half broken in two by the blow, and Shepard's shotgun came up. One shot, blasting through it's head, sent it crashing to the ground.

The shotgun swept left, firing again, once, twice. Two more geth collapsed, one with a smoking hole the size of a dinner plate in it's chest, the other one sporting a broken collar of metal and white-spewing tubes where it's head once was. Another boom as she half-turned, crushing the half-dead geth pyro she had winged, it's entire upper torso gone with the blast, liquid accelerant catching fire as it slumped.

She pivoted on her heel, snapping the shotgun out for the fourth shot, catching the geth to her left in the knee. It staggered, stumbling forward, and her fist lashed out, wreathed in biotic energy as it literally crumpled it's armor plated chest, pounding the unit into the concrete with a thud and a crack of electronic data units. The thing gave a squeal of static, trailing off suddenly as the biotic field in her hand expanded into shockwaves of force, scattering parts in all directions.

Not even pausing, she dropped the shotgun and rolled to her side, a second before plasma darts slammed into the ground where she had been. Her free hand , still trailing biotic energy, lifted her pistol. Five shots erupted from it's cavernous barrel as it moved through a smooth arc, each one striking a geth unit directly in the lighted orb that formed it's face and sensor unit. The last actually spun in midair from the force of the shot, tumbling off the edge of the raised platform to fall 10 feet down in a wrecked pile of now white-smeared ruin.

Parker simply stared in unblinking awe. Nine dead geth in less than 3 seconds. He glanced over to Cole and Williams, both who watched Shepard slowly come to her feet with an almost predatory ease. She didn't even look as if she had been fighting. She could have been cleaning her weapon or talking about the weather.

Shepard leapt down lightly, landing next to Alenko, who was crouched over the prone, still form of Jenkins. "Goddamn it. I told him to keep his head down..."

Shepard placed a hand on Alenko's shoulder. "Mission first. We can mourn later."

Alenko nodded. "..Yes commander. But Jenkins was the only marine we have who knew Eden Prime well. How will..."

Shepard turned back to Parker, still sitting slack-jawed in the Mako. "Lieutenant, you said one of your men was still combat effective?" Parker did not answer, rather, a firm voice behind her did. Shepard half turned, to face who spoke.

"Gunnery Sergeant Ashley Williams, ma'am., of the 212. Cocked locked and ready to rock." Williams was strongly built and tall, her eyes smoldering with enough anger to set her jaw to trembling. Alenko could only stare at her, as if she was some kind of Valkyrie. Shepard, on the other hand...

"You are of course familiar with the area. I need to secure that Beacon. Can you lead the way, soldier?"

Williams nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I damn sure can."

Shepard continued to look at the young soldier, her own stance...utterly still, her eyes cold, her voice emotionless. "I don't need a hot-head out for revenge. I need a team player, Chief. Can you do that as well?"

"They just massacred almost my entire unit! All my friends!"

Shepard's voice grew colder. "And unless you get control of yourself, marine, and stay frosty, they'll finish the job. Can you do the job?'

Ashley shuddered, giving a long exhale. "I...I can, ma'am."

Shepard nodded. "Lieutenant Cole, I'm taking one of your soldiers to replace Jenkins, since I have no experience with this planet. Evacuate as soon as possible, this position will be overrun."

Parker only nodded. "The Normandy just radioed, it's headed back this way. Be... be careful commander. There are a LOT of geth out there and we still don't know what drew them here."

Shepard clipped her shotgun back to her weapons pack and drew forth her sniper rifle. "Leave the geth to me, sir." She turned to Alenko and Williams. "Move out , recon pattern. Radio silence. We are to find the beacon, and avoid hostile contact where possible."

Wiliams gestured with her rifle. "The dig site is down this road...past the mouth of the valley below. Then there is a path up to the cargo tram storage site where they stored all of their findings, and the camp of the archeologists. A tram line from there runs straight to the spaceport,ma'am."

Shepard nodded, eyes cold. "Let's get it done, then."


	10. Chapter 5 : Eden Prime, Ambush

January 23nd , 2183

_Spirits that shield us, this is not good._

Nihlus had been in many bad, bad spots in his career as a Spectre for the Council. He had nearly gotten killed on Tuchanka by Clan Weyrloc investigating reports of ground-to-space weapons smuggled in past the DMZ. He had been chased for days by an enraged asari justicar and barely escaped with his life. He had even been pinned by down by heavy artillery fire and surrounded by Blue Suns with only a pistol.

But this was … beyond any of that. Nihlus powerful legs pumped, untiring, as he vaulted over a broken cargo crate, shotgun in each hand. He fired one as he landed, blasting a geth backwards with enough force to send it bouncing off the wall, barely missing him as he sped past. A geth with a heavy plasma thrower popped up from cover, along with two more of his brethren with pulse rifles, and the other shotgun in his hand barked, blasting the containment tank, spraying all three with whitehot plasma that melted them into the already blackened ground.

_Surrounded by an army of geth, with my only backup a human that even scares the shit out of other humans, and my only way off planet a frigate that wouldn't even scratch the paint on that nightmare of a dreadnaught. _

"Shepard, this is Nihlus, report." He stormed up a metallic staircase, shoulder-ramming another geth. Dropping one gun, he lashed out with his talons, the omni-tool on his arm sheathing each one with a thin layer of electro-plasma the instance before impact. His talons slid through polymer armor with ease, literally slicing the geth's head off bulky shoulders even as it staggered from being rammed. As it fell he rolled past it, picking up his shotgun and then holstering both on his wide belt.

All around him, the colony burned. At least one arcology tower was a half-melted ruin, the ground around it carpeted with hundreds of horribly burned and broken bodies. Rows of once neatly parked ground cars burned in silent vigil, while others had been hurled in all directions, as if a giant child had thrown a temper tantrum.

The corpses of human soldiers were everywhere, many having taken such savage wounds that they were barely recognizable. It looked like most of a company had died trying to defend the tramway leading from the spaceport, but they had been overrun. They didn't die alone, though... hundreds of geth lay dead , white conductive fluids pooling into small ponds here and there, smeared with the red viscera of the human defenders.

"Nihlus, this is Shepard. On the ground, transmission tower and elements of 212 secure. Moving towards dig site."He crouched next to some sort of electrical generator housing, the bulk of the concrete base giving good cover.

"Copy. I am approaching other side of landing area, near tramway access. Be advised, geth are still incoming." Nihlus paused as another one came around the corner. Not even bothering to pull a gun, the turians arm snapped out in a lighting fast arc. A slender shard of metal shot from the Spectre's arm gauntlet, sparkling with electrical charge, and slammed into the throat of the geth machine, exploding into an electrical cascade that overloaded the machine. It stumbled forward in a ragged circle before collapsing with several internal explosions.

"Understood. We will see if we can't find the Beacon and recover some of the scientists on site. You plan to secure the tramway?"

Nihlus paused, thinking, mandibles waving in agitation. It was clear geth were being funneled by the tramway, from the battlefield and the patterns of the corpses, but now it looked as if the geth were falling back towards the spaceport. "Negative. I'm going to try to reach the spaceport, see if I can't get detailed scans of that black dreadnaught."

Shepard's voice sounded...almost tight, or perhaps disapproving. "Understood. Be advised Normandy is engaging additional incoming geth ship. Captain Anderson will be forced to leave the battlespace if that dreadnaught goes spaceside. "

Nihlus grimaced, his fringe contracting at the thought of being trapped on a planet overrun by geth. _Ah, it just officially got worse. Great. _ "Understood. Nihlus out." He rose from his crouch, pulling out the modified Nova sniper rifle he favored, and brought it up to his eye, scanning ahead.

In the distance, he saw what looked like a Turian , executing two humans with a large caliber pistol. The turian's back was to him, his armor black and silver and somehow familiar, but he couldn't place it. Without facing him, the turian strode off, descending down a set of stairs and out of sight. Nihlus felt his gizard contract, bile pumping through his system. _What sort of traitor to the Hierarchy works with geth? _He moved to his left, spotting a ladderway leading down, and shipped his rifle to climb down. The human ladders were so small, so cramped, it hurt his spurs to use them, but he got to the bottom, pulling out his LMG and flicking it over to full auto disruptor fire.

The wind carried a charnel scent, burning plastic, burning flesh, burning innocence on the wind. This colony was perhaps humanity's proudest achievement, with soaring clean arcology towers, clean energy and rich natural resources, but it was now ruined. Nihlus shook his head as he carefully but quickly proceeded down what looked like an access road of some kind, ducking from cover to cover in the shade of aircars and the occasional cargo lifter.

It took him an agonizing 10 minutes to reach the cargo terminal, which was littered with dead bodies . These humans had not been overwhelmed, they had been massacred. Six of them had literally been torn limb to limb, with savage strength that would normally be the hallmark of a krogan. But he saw claw marks on the faces, the arms...turian talons.

He grimaced, when he heard a sound, and ducked back behind some crates to the side of him. As he crouched down, he noticed a human corpse next to him, a shocked expression on his face,a huge bloody hole blown in his chest. Next to him was a pistol of some sort, barrel warped by heat. Nihlus carefully cautiously looked around the edge of the crate, seeking the source of the noise.

Clanking, heavy footfalls sounded at the stairwell the strange turian had descended. Nihlus clamped his mandibles together and waited as the steps reached the top of the platform..and then his eyes widened at the voice he heard. He hastily killed his omni-tool, lest it show up on a scan or make a noise if a call from Shepard came in.

"Report."

_It can't be him. It can't be. _Nihlus felt as if he was about to fall over, or if his scales would burst into fire. He edged around the crate a bit more, taking in the silver and black armor he recognized now, the oversize pistol he had been given by Septimus for stopping the Red Star assault. The cybernetic arm, the plated face that was thanks to the radiation exposure he had gotten fighting during the Relay 314 incident...

Nihlus closed his eyes as if in pain, gently easing back on the balls of his feet, as a deep, calm voice spoke through the other turian's omni-tool.

"As we agreed, we've made the appropriate entries to the registry at the port of call we spoke of. We even had a turian mocked up to look like you. Everything is in place. All you need to do is destroy the colony as you leave."

Saren gave a quiet snarl of disgust. "You had better meet all the requirements I laid out. There is no room for error, and I already have little patience with or trust for your group, since one of your leaders killed my brother."

The voice on the omni-tool was calm, not responding to Saren's tone. "Cerberus is more than one man, Arcturus. And this is still in both of our interests, I assure you. We've made sure that none of the comms stations near Eden Prime will forward any distress signal out of the system. By the time the Alliance realizes the Beacon is gone, you will have made a clean getaway. And when the bomb wipes all the evidence away, we will have our proof of batarian terrorism."

Saren hissed, mandibles snapping. "Clever. As long as you keep the Council distracted, we will all benefit from this. he geth are almost done with reworking the power supply to the Beacon. I'll access it and then wipe the colony. Be ready with those false batarian ships."

The voice gave a cultured chuckle. "But of course. Anything for a Spectre." Saren clicked the omni-tool off as two geth approached behind him. "Saren-Prophet, we have suppressed all organized resistance, but we still have geth units failing. Two groups, one is located by the recovery area of the Beacon. The other is nearby."

Saren nodded, grimly pulling out his pistol. "At least one ship responded to the distress call. No matter. Pull back to Sovereign and prepare for departure. The bomb will clean up all the evidence, and the EMP will wipe any recording devices that remain. Go."

The two geth turned away in a jerky manner, stepping away with alacrity. Saren looked off into the distance, in the direction that Shepard's group would be coming from. He put away his pistol and instead pulled out the long, silvery sniper rifle on his back.

Nihlus exhaled as slowly as he could, spent air dribbling past his fangs as he very carefully eased out one of his shotguns, turning off the auto-extender and quietly moving it's various pieces into firing shape to avoid noise. He only had one shot at this – if he couldn't take Saren out instantly, his chances of winning a fight were slim to none. He couldn't call out, couldn't risk even turning on his omni-tool for a text message without certainty that Saren would not take him out, and if they were talking about a bomb he didn't have much time.

Saren half turned away, looking for a place to snipe from, and Nihlus made his move, vaulting the crates in one smooth move and firing as he leapt, triggering the over-fire mod marketed as "Carnage" by the humans. The blast staggered Saren, ripping through his shields into his back, sniper rifle flying away, and Nihlus landed, drawing his other shotgun to finish him off...

And instead catching a violent backhand to his face, sending him flying back, his shotguns knocked out of his stunned hands. Nihlus crashed to the ground in a heap, grimacing as he felt something break, feeling the awkward , shattered grinding of his left mandible. He was too stunned to do much more than try to blink his head clear and focus his vision as Saren straightened. A huge hole was blown in the other turian's armor...and underneath it was...blue-gleaming cybernetics, writhing like worms as it slowly meshed itself whole once more.

Saren looked over his shoulder, even as the blue-glowing substance in his back began regrowing his armor. "Nihlus." His mandibles lowered in a sardonic, evil grin, and he turned fully around, his hand now holding his pistol, firing as he did so, the blast sounding like an explosion to Nihlus. An instant later his world vanished in fire and red-hot pain and the feel of … air... on his torso. He sagged, blue blood spurting from his mouth.

"...S...Saren...what ha...have you ...done!" He fell over, on his hands and knees, struggling to rise. Saren stepped forward, kicking Nihlus in the midsection, and Nihlus retched, bile and blood spilling over the edge of his jaw as he collapsed on the ground. _Hard ..to breathe...bastard shot out one of my lungs._

Saren plucked Nihlus's sniper rifle and LMG off of his back, tossing the former away but holding on to the latter in his free hand, holstering his pistol. "You can't possibly understand what is at stake, old friend. I had hoped it would not come to this...that I would have a chance to.. talk...to convince you. I could use you on my side. "

Nihlus spat weakly, a splotch of his lifeblood marring Saren's gleaming armored foot. Said foot kicked him in the face, splintering his facial plates, sending rivulets of blood into his left eye. "Yes, well, I expected that. I suppose it's a shame, really. Your idiot human allies will be fried in the nuclear explosion due to happen in a few minutes time. I'll make sure to comfort your wife when I get back to Palaven, though."

Nihlus's own custom LMG lowered to the top of his skull, the barrel a cool , small circle against the edge of his fringe. "Farewell, Nihlus."

* * *

Shepard, Alenko and Williams halted just prior to the descent to the dig site, as the roar of a LMG tore through the air somewhere ahead and to the right. Shepard frowned. "That sounds like a Revenant, but Nihlus still isn't answering his damned comms."

Alenko only shrugged. "You think he is in trouble, sir?"

Shepard pressed her back up against the edge of the walls surrounding the digsite, and bit her lip. "Unknown. Williams. How far to the tram access?"

The woman glanced around, measuring. "About 10 minutes, if we rush it. 20 if we're taking cover and fighting our way through. There's a sort of platform , cargo holding area really , at one end. Then just a sort of long breakwater over the river , and tramlines runs over that towards the spaceport."

Shepard unslung her Avenger and set her amp to full power. "Let's hit the dig site fast, and then move on the tram access. I don't like this. "


	11. INTERMISSION: Alliance Service Record

_**A/N :** before continuing, it's best I go into exactly what **kind** of FShep we are dealing with here. There are quite a few Renegade Sheps out there, who've had bad histories with Akuze or a bad situation with gangs on Earth, or sad events at Mindoir. (And who are probably better written.)_

_But this is not the case with Sara. She's not the gritty, dark but under-the-pain good person that **Melardark**'s Del is. This isn't **Octo8**'s Jonathan either, with carefully considered renegade actions, or **Roarkshop**'s wonderfully profane and earthily dark Jane Shepard This isn't even **Setrus**' bipolar and icy Micheal Shepard. (And if you don't recognize those, you really, REALLY need to read their stories. They are all much more awesome than mine.)  
_

_No, this bitch is completely, utterly sociopathic, and is about one bad day from going completely and totally psychopathic. She's almost emotionally autistic, only able to let her emotions go with a few people, almost all of what she feels being negative. She *hates*. She doesn't kill when she can execute, she doesn't merely destroy what she can obliterate. This is the kind of Shepard you get when you torture a girl for years after destroying her self-esteem and then make her believe that the only way to have any peace is to accomplish everything perfectly._

_I'm sure some will say this is over the top...but I honestly actually cut it back. The [REDACTED - SEALED] section around Torfan will show up in the main story later. The other removed sections are really just filler to make the record more..mysterious. Too much SCP I suppose.  
_

**ALLIANCE SERVICE RECORD – TANTALUS CLEARANCE, EYES ONLY**

* * *

**Demographic summary:**

_Name_: Sara Ying Shepard

_Known Alias_: Sara Bonaventure, Sinthia Yong Li

_Date of Birth_: 11.4.2154

_Height_: 5'11

_Hair_: black

_Eyes_: blue (dark)

_Identifying marks_: tattoo, gang related (right shoulder, two dice in red ink), scar , right chest (5.4 inches long, knife wound), scar, right thigh (14.3 inches long, scar, knife wound), 17 parallel scars (lower and upper back, electrowhip), 4 scars, parallel line along spine (cattle prod), broken tibia, broken femur (both), broken pelvis (right side, pins inserted 7.2 inches below waistline).

_Ethnicity_: mixed northern African, French, Chinese. Based on genetic markers, at least one biological parent was fully ethnic Chinese.

* * *

**Biographical summary:**

_Parents_: unknown non-citizens, Earth, New York mega complex. Possible transients. Recruiting officer note: gang rumor at time of sentencing indicated parents were red sand addicts and dealers for the asari pirate and drug runner Thalia Renas. Confirmed that parents sold her at age of 8 to local prostitution ring.

_Relatives / NOK:_ none. Legal will entrusts all material assets to David Anderson, captain, Systems Alliance. Genetic testing indicates familial relation (second cousin or greater) to New York Authority Precinct Captain Jason Yong Li, deceased shortly after induction to the military.

_Native language_: English (northern Atlantic dialect)

_Languages known_: Chinese (minor), Spanish (American Hispanic, fluent), Turian (minor, trade dialect only), asari (Serrician accent, minor).

* * *

**Medical and psychological summary:**

_Medical_: Meets all N7 baseline physical requirements. Last PTR testing indicates all seven point standards met or exceeded. (2.5 mile swim, 2.5 mile run in 15 minutes, 250 pushups, 400 situps, obsticule course completed in 8.3 minutes, weight support at 1.7 times body mass, endurance run with 97% 02 suffusion after 13 minutes). Subject appears to be in fantastic physical shape. Eezo exposure both pre and post uteral, eezo nodes identified through 44% of body. Stable, benign masses, no sign of eezo stage toxicity. Standard L3 implant provided, no physiological side-effects aside from excessive biotic flaring in all maneuvers. Due to radiological damage and a combination of factors during youth including suboptimal medical treatment, sterility drugs and possible uterine damage during intercourse, subject is sterile. Toxicology at time of sentencing/admittance indicated light-stage red sand and heavy heroin usage. Criminal record indicates possession of personal amounts of red sand, cocaine and livoticane-6. All drug tests since enlistment have come back as negative.

[REDACTED]

Vision perfect. Hearing perfect, slightly above norms for human female of age bracket with noise exposure.

_Psychological_:

Subject was raised in abusive environment and in broken home. At some period between 7 and 8 years of age, subject sold to local prostitution ring by parental figures for undisclosed amount of drugs and cash. Abandonment issues and feelings of self-hate, worthlessness stem from this event. Repeated abuse by clients lead to psychotic break at age 14, arrest records indicate subject stabbed client and 3 other observers with handmade implement ("shank"). Admitted to Preston Memorial 9.16.2169, released due to paperwork mix up two days later. Initial psychological workup indicated suicidal and self-destructive tendencies, self-harm tendencies, corruption of sexual and social understanding. Comments on workup indicate subject was sociopathic in the extreme even at such a young age.

[REDACTED]

[REDACTED]

Complete psychological profile conducted at time of enlistment. Functional paranoid with suppressed sense of right and wrong. High levels of Stockholm Syndrome towards Tenth Street Red gang members. Sexual trauma, nonfunctional social framework. Complete profile available in separate enclosure, runs to 13 pages. (Release officer, David Anderson)

Notable deviations from norm include pathological hatred of New York Arcology authority, dismissal of personal emotions, and a complete lack of personal relationships outside of a strained mentor/student relationship with Captain David Anderson. According to all reports, subject has not had any romantic or sexual relationships during her entire enlistment.

ADDENDUM: Subject is not authorized for deployment to or release to New York Arcology for any reason.

ADDENDUM: Interviews with both Captain Anderson and Commander Shepard indicate a strained, strange relationship. Not exactly father/daughter, not exactly friendship. This is believed to stem from the events just prior to the Tenth Street Massacre.

* * *

**Known Records (Criminal, civilian record):**

_6 charges, distribution of controlled narcotics (dropped charges, court load)_

_3 charges, possession of controlled narcotics with intent to distribute (unable to prosecute)_

_11 charges, theft (all dismissed, court load)_

_21 charges, grand theft (convicted on 13, adjudicated sentencing, see military enlistment)_

_9 charges, arson (lack of evidence, dismissed)_

_4 charges, rape (dismissed)_

_2 charges, attempted rape (dismissed)_

_119 charges, murder class 1 (convicted on 119 charges, adjudicated sentencing, see military enlistment)_

_44 charges, murder class 2 (convicted on all charges, adjudicated sentencing, see military enlistment)_

_19 charges, murder class 3 (mandatory capital punishment waived, adjudicated sentencing, see military enlistment)_

_17 charges, assault with deadly weapon, biotic (convicted on 3 charges, adjudicated sentencing, see military enlistment)_

**Suspected_:_**

_Between 22 and 25 instances of grand theft, grand theft auto, and grand theft military._

_Between 11 and 19 charges of distribution or intent to distribute controlled narcotics._

_2 rape charges (brought by females)_

_Between 4 and 11 charges of arson_

_Estimated (conservatively) in tenure as Tenth Street Reds assassin to have killed over 300 gang members between the ages of 15 and 18. This does not include confirmed charges , bringing her likely body count well above 450._

_Multiple misdemeanors and class 3 felonies_

**Notable incidents.**

9.11.2169 - arrest at Volthan Apartments, arresting authority Civil Patrol Services, disturbance of peace call. Subject, aged 14, found covered in blood with severe stab wounds and clear signs of forced sexual activity. DNA from dead male human matched against rape kit test at site. 3 others found dead, stabbed from behind in jugular. Arresting officer notes subject "scared the shit out of him" with visual glare. Refused to surrender, tasered to submission and taken to psychological counseling. Released in error.

11.15.2169 - arrest with known members of Tenth Street Reds. Arresting authority, Calthium Bounty services. Released after bond paid in full by Tenth Street Red lieutenant, charges dropped due to court load. Charged with distribution of controlled narcotics. First actual criminal record.

3.12.2170 - arrest with known members of Tenth Street Reds. Multiple charges, arson, grand theft (auto and military), distribution of controlled substances. Arresting authority, Civil Patrol Services. Dismissed with prejudice by Precinct Captain Yong Li. Notable due to the first time Yong Li interfered with court proceedings, claiming charges were fabricated, or failing to locate witness or evidence for trial.

12.1.2171 - arrest for distribution of controlled narcotics, red sand. Arresting authority, NYPD. Dismissed after review by Precinct Captain Yong Li, due to court load. Notable due to size of sized shipment (83 kilos) and that shipment went missing one month later.

1.19.2173 - arrest for assault with a deadly weapon, biotic. Arresting authority, NYPD. Dismissed after review by Precinct Captain Yong Li. Notable due to the bizzare malfunction of over 20 security cameras that should have captured the incident and six eyewitnesses who vanished in the course of the week.

2.04.2174 - detainment and arrest for attempted rape. Arresting authority, Dorasn Intersystems Bounty Services. Dismissed after review by Precinct Captain Yong Li. ADDENDUM: Charges brought forth by civilian female. Claims she was drinking in bar and admitted to making a pass at subject, claims she was pinned to table and induced at knife-point to commit acts. No injuries found on plaintiff, nor eyewitnesses that would come forward. In weeks following this, several more incidents of the same kind were brought to court and dismissed.

2.11.2175 - arrest for assault with a deadly weapon, biotic. Arresting authority, Calthium Bounty Services. Dismissed after review by Precinct Captain Yong Li. Notable as the last arrest incident prior the the Massacre.

**Tenth Street Massacre Addendum:**

4.30.2175 - event known as the Tenth Street Massacre. While records of this event are speculative (mostly due to the extreme lethality of the subject) , a few pertinent facts can be gleaned from the police record , emergency responders, and SWAT Unit. As detailed in additional information, Precinct Captain Jason Yong Li was utilizing the Reds as a method of combating crime in the area of his precinct, feeding them information, recovered weapons, even drugs that had been seized from other gangs, and using the Reds to obliterate the Four-Nines and the Path of Lho, the larger and more dominant gangs in the area.

On the morning of the 30th, subject was assaulted by members of the Path of Lho while transitioning to the northern area of the arcology to sell red sand. Subject was saved by off-duty Lieutenant David Anderson, who was shot twice saving her life. According to eyewitnesses, subject wept at the sight of Anderson lying seemingly dead in the street, and was notably relieved when he proved to be only wounded.

Despite outstanding warrants and her own injuries, subject personally got Lieutenant Anderson to a local hospital for his injuries. In doing so, she was identified by a local police officer as being a gang member. A partial police report implies that police officers attempted to get a statement from Anderson implicating subject in criminal activity. Anderson declined to do so. Hospital monitoring systems recorded a brief conversation between Anderson and Shepard, in which she inquires why he didn't sell her out and he replies that if she had been evil she wouldn't not have gotten shot saving his life, and that she deserves another chance.

Subject vanished at some point that morning after having her wounds treated with medigel. Anderson was kept at the hospital, still severely wounded. Eyewitness reports are sketchy, but it appears that at some point that afternoon Tenth Street Red gang leaders decided that a war hero would make a good hostage to hold for ransom. The gangs had done this before, with a mixed success rate (they captured Rear Admiral Jackson in 2159 and released him for random of over 1 million credits). The Systems Alliance would never pay random for it's officers, but Anderson's family was financially wealthy and influential.

Given her success rate and the fact she knew the target, it is likely that the Tenth Street Reds expected Shepard to conduct this act. What happened next is conjectural in it's reasons but absolute in results - Shepard proceeded to single handedly execute every single Tenth Street Reds leader, and began slaughtering the other gang members with heavy weapons from their own stockpile.

[REDACTED]

Only one survivor, Jared Finch, is known to have escaped, and according to arrest records he stated that Shepard "lost her shit when we told her to kidnap her fucking hero Anderson. She screamed that he was a good person and we only went after shit, and we all laughed at her and said she could fuck him after we got paid and put a cap in his ass." According to the report, Shepard tore the throat out of the speaker with her bare hands and proceeded to execute the leader of the Reds, a Jethro Taylor, by coring out one of his eyes with her thumb and shoving the exposed socket onto an exposed spar of metal.

Local police units attempted to intervene and were forced to withdraw as the other gangs piled onto the chaotic battle, with several hundred gang members from various gangs attempted to crush the Tenth Street Reds. Subject appearantly took this as somehow offensive and began sniping opposing gang members as well. 119 people were killed or wounded that could be directly traced back to Shepard, and at least 9 ground vehicles destroyed. AT least two minor gangs were completely obliterated in the fighting. Multiple nearby buildings were on fire and news services attempting to get in close enough to use remote drone cameras were placed under fire as well.

At 6:43 PM, one of Shepard's shots appearantly detonated a fuel cell of a gang vehicle, the ensuing blast accidentally killing two police officers. At this point heavy SWAT units responded in full kinetic armor. The SWAT team stormed the building and discovered an abattoir, with over 100 gang members butchered and executed, many with incendiary weapons or heavy weapons intended for anti-material and not anti-personnel use. Two SWAT members actually withdrew from the building due to nausea.

SWAT units engaged Shepard on the top floor of the Tenth Street Reds HQ building shortly thereafter, with orders to subdue. 11 officers were wounded, 3 severely, before Shepard was shot multiple times and backed into a corner threatening to detonated the building. Observed holding some form of old omni-tool based haptic interface, SWAT formed a cordon and called for a negotiator. Police unit psychologist was called up, but under Systems Alliance authority, a still badly wounded Lieutenant David Anderson demanded to be allowed to speak to Shepard.

[REDACTED]

Despite expectations, Anderson was able to talk Shepard down and take her into custody. Anderson is believed to have come to some sort of deal with the Precinct Captain, Yong Li. As a result, Shepard was remanded shortly thereafter to Alliance medical custody. Investigation of records and recordings in the Reds HQ lead to the discovery of Yong Li's role in the success of the Reds, and his suppression of evidence that could have led to the arrest of Shepard years earlier.

_Notable information_: Precinct Captain Jason Yong Li was very likely a distant relative of the subject. 85% of all dismissed charges and records were done so at his behest. Based on existing evidence, it appears Captain Li was using the subject (and the Reds) as a form of "cleanup" of other gangs in the lower levels of the arcology. After the Tenth Street Massacre, of course, there was no way to continue utilizing the subject, and the very hasty agreement to allow Shepard to enlist in the military was done mere days before the Captain was hauled before the Authority Board, stripped of his rank, charged with state treason and executed.

* * *

**Duty Summary:**

_Rank_: Commander, SSV Normandy

_ALL OTHER INFORMATION CLASSIFIED , OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE, AUTHORIZATION ADMIRAL STEVEN HACKETT._

* * *

**Awards:**

Star of Terra, for actions conducted on Torfan.

Medal of Valor, 3 repeats, actions beyond the call of duty

Distinguished Service Medal , 3 repeats

Legion of Honor , 2 repeats.

Purple Heart, 9 repeats

Navy Cross, Marine, 3 repeats

Marksmanship Wartime award, 12 repeats

**Training Awards:**

C7 Silver Flash (retired 2181)

N4 Silver Flash: current holder

N7 Silver Flash: current holder

Qualifications:

Zero-G Special Warfare badge

C7 Augmented Biotics Warfare badge

Biotic Instructor badge

Marksmanship badges

master, pistol course

master, rifle course, assault

master, rifle course, sniper

master, rifle course, anti-material

infantryman, sub-machinegun and machine pistol course

infantryman, coaxial mount armor course

Pass on go/nogo shotgun and heavy weapons courses

Certified journeyman class electronic warfare course

Certified journeyman class electronic countermeasures course

"Miathra" master ranking, asari biotic commune training / cross-training course with asari commandos.

Joint SA / TH sniper class ranking 1st of 32 turian and human participants.

**N7 Participation:**

N1 Electronics and Countermeasures badge, N1 Hostile Terrain survival badge, N1 Weapons course badge

N2 Survival and Rescue / Escape badge, N2 Zero-G combat badge

N3 Hostile systems survival badge (additional qualification on Adept-class biotic survival badge, but no badge awarded due to regulations)

N4 Sniper Qualifications badge, N4 Infiltrator-class sniper badge (awarded despite regulations due to score, record range and time)

N5 Stealth Operations Conduct badge, N5 Command Operations badge

N6 Combined Arms/Biotics badge (additional qualification on Infiltrator-class sniper course, but no badge awarded due to regulations)

N7 Graduate with honors, highest current final qualification score.

**Space-Side Qualifications / Training:**

Arcturus system ship command qualification, ranks 4 and 5 (Engineer, Navigation, Executive). Qualified Systems Alliance Marine line officer and Naval Line Officer.

**Discomendations and demerits:** none in training. 4 letters of discommendation from various operating theater CO's or XO's. All denied. 2 charges of conduct unbecoming an officer, dismissed. 1 charge of disobeying direct order, dismissed. 1 charge of utilization of a banned military device, dismissed.

_ADDENDUM_: Subject has had zero legal violations when off duty since enlistment.

* * *

**Operational Overview: (Eyes Only - Tantalus)**

Commander Shepard is a biotic assault infantry soldier with extreme cross training in electronic info-war, biotic CQB, biotic crowd control, and sniping. Her personal background means she is very comfortable with either direct assault or infiltration and assassination. She holds qualifications at the very highest level of proficiency in every known method of combat the SA offers with the exception of engineering-specific infowar classes and adept-biotic training, and she has participated in those and placed well above the 90% percentile. [REDACTED]

Shepard's has no single battle style outside of directly leading from the front. Tactically she prefers the use of misdirection, combined ground arms, and heavy suppressive fire prior to flanking whenever employable. [REDACTED] , however, she is qualified to command up to battalion level forces (she has not had or shown an interested in regimental level command training) and is most formidable in small, special forces style squads of 3 to 5 specialists.

Shepard is willing to endure heavy casualties in all non-special forces operations, which has resulted in corresponding morale drop when she is given strategic command. Conversely, Shepard has a [REDACTED] special forces operations, with expected morale gains. There is a marked variable between the survival rates of soldiers she knows personally, on any level, and those she does not. [REDACTED]

[REDACTED]

[REDACTED]

Her image and reputation are a force multiplier in any conflict. Surveillance shows that even krogan display agitation and neurological/physiological bodily changes associated with fear during combat with Shepard. This trend accelerated markedly after the battle at Dirth where independent video operators managed to record footage of her laughing while biotically ripping the spines out of krogan mercenaries and killing six heavily armed turians in nine seconds in close quarters battle.

Shepard's current preferred armory authorizations are as follows: customized Carnifex Model S personal defense pistol, fluidic-shock mounted Avenger assault rifle modified for increased rate of fire and double-core tungsten rounds, M-29 ODIN class shotgun, illegal in Citadel and System Alliace space, permits obtained from Citadel Security and SA Office of Special Authorizations for use in combat only, M-919 Thunderbolt Anti-personnel long-range rifle.

_ADDENDUM_: Personal records can usually give some insight into a person, but the very long list of Shepard's accomplishments contrasted with a criminal record of extreme violence often is missed. From the time she exited the Penal Legion to the present day, Shepard has exhibited nothing but complete 100% adhesion to the letter of the law. She has not even had a speeding ticket or civil disturbance violation fine. Such a complete 100% turnaround in character is usually indicative of someone changing their way of life, but from all evidence Shepard was the most talented and skilled Tenth Street Red gang member as well. Excellence appears to be her goal, either in criminal or military affairs. Once she is devoted to a course of action she does not stop until incapacitated or completely successful.

_ADDENDUM_: Criminal , arrest and sentencing records can only describe the horror of subjects childhood and early life in clinical terms. The shift from being a sex object and "owned" to a cold, emotionless killing machine that executed anything or anyone in her way can be traced back to the earliest arrest record, but we don't know what set it off or what happened to turn her from what seemed to be a traumatized helpless figure to a sociopath.

_ADDENDUM_: Adjudicated sentencing. Taken in part from Systems Alliance recruiting archives.

_NOTED that on May 2nd, 2175, the Systems Alliance Judge Advocate General's office , Vancouver, takes into formal custody one SARA SHEPARD from processing authority, New York Arcology, for the purposes of enforced adjudicated enlistment._

_NOTED, that SARA SHEPARD has a criminal record that requires capital punishment._

_NOTED, that SARA SHEPARD has no alibi for criminal acts she is accused of, and has been convicted of said acts to a degree that even without execution she must serve at least 3 life terms with no possibility of parole._

_NOTED, that SARA SHEPARD has volunteered to enlist in the 3rd Marine Penal Legion, until such time as she demonstrates her ability to operate as a System Alliance citizen, and at is at that time inducted formally into the Systems Alliance military until such time as she killed in action; or failing to demonstrate such ability, is killed in the line of duty in the 3rd Marine Penal Legion._

_NOTED, that at no time shall SARA SHEPARD enter the Local Group, for any reason, while a member of the Penal Legion, and that all charges and offenses against the principality of the New York Arcology are suspended for the good of the state only as long as SARA SHEPARD performs all tasks, duties, requirements, lawful orders and requests made by the Systems Alliance._

_NOTED, that the accused is now formally a member of the Systems Alliance military and subjected to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, revised._

_So authorized,_

_Lieutenant David Anderson, Systems Alliance_

_Precinct Captain Jason Yong Li, New York Arcology authority_

* * *

**SERVICE HISTORY:**

5.3.2175 : Adjudicated enlistment, 3rd Marine Penal Legion (3MPL). Liaison officer with Alliance standard military is Lieutenant David Anderson.

5.4.2175 : Commencement of Adjusted Service Boot Camp

8.22.2175: Completion of Adjusted Service Boot Camp. Graduation with honors. Promotion to Serviceman 2nd Class.

[SECTION REDACTED - Authorization, Donnel Udina, Systems Alliance Authority under Article 9 , Section 3 of the Systems Alliance Military Justice Charter]

9.01.2175: Returns from leave granted after ASBC. During leave period, studied in base library, spent 6 hours daily in rifle and pistol ranges.

9.02.2175: Assignment to 4th Platoon, 2nd Regiment, 1st Battalion, 3MPL as assistant gunner.

[SECTION REDACTED - Authorization, Donnel Udina, Systems Alliance Authority under Article 9 , Section 3 of the Systems Alliance Military Justice Charter]

11.12.2175: First deployment, anti-pirate operations against Terminus pirates on Kalthus. Subject kills 19 batarians, managing to save the lives of 2 of her squad mates despite multiple wounds.

11.14.2175: Award package submitted for Navy cross by Lieutenant David Anderson.

11.19.2175: Operations on Kalthus complete.

11.21.2175: Awarded Purple Heart, Navy Cross, Marksmanship Award. Promoted to Corporal, then "spotted" to brevet Service Chief.

11.24.2175: Made assistant squad leader.

Miracle at Vansha

01.04.2176: 3MPL deployed to Vansha in response to pirate raid. Subject's dropship shot out of the sky, but subject survives. Links up with elements of the 2MPL, and directs 3 squads to form a flanking assault line as she storms the command group of the pirates. Using nothing but biotics, grenades and CQB subject kills all pirate officers at their comm center, allowing main elements of 3MPL and 2MPL to hold position and for the 34th Marine to crush the pirates. However, the squads she used as cover are killed nearly to a man.

[REDACTED]

[REDACTED]

[SECTION REDACTED - Authorization, Donnel Udina, Systems Alliance Authority under Article 9 , Section 3 of the Systems Alliance Military Justice Charter]

01.11.2176: Inquiry into actions finds subject performed her duty. Promotion to Service Chief finalized. Removed from 3MPL and sent to Earth for C-class biotic infantry training.

01.14.2176: Awarded Distinguished Service Medal for actions on Vansha.

01.21.2176: Begins C-class biotic training.

4.13.2176: Completes C-Class biotic training, awarded C7 classification with honors.

4.14.2176: Awarded C7 Silver Flash, for having highest ranking qualification test score ever.

4.16.2176: Letter of discommendation from XO, Vansha 2MPL. Letter dismissed by Admiral Hackett, per review and recommendation by Lieutenant Commander David Anderson.

5.11.2176: Assigned to 5th Battalion, 2nd Marine Rapid Response Unit

[SECTION REDACTED - Authorization, Donnel Udina, Systems Alliance Authority under Article 9 , Section 3 of the Systems Alliance Military Justice Charter]

Battle Of Horizon (1st)

8.09.2176: 2nd RRU deployed to Horizon in response to batarian/turian pirate raid. Raid turns out to be major invasion, complicit figures in colony administration sabotage GARDIAN defense system to allow pirates to land. 42 minutes into RRU deployment, 5th Battalion's entire command cadre destroyed by direct kinetic orbital strike. Sergeant Shepard takes command, executing three Marines who attempt to surrender to pirates and 18 more who attempt to flee the battle. Without waiting for chain of command, half of5th Battalion dispersed guerrilla style among colony population to tie up and delay invaders, while the other half storms pirate landing site under cover of darkness.

[REDACTED]

3rd Battalion under heavy kinetic fire, and 1st Battalion is being overrun, General Adams in CQB with pirates, when Shepard's strike manages to kill ground force holding landing area. Capturing several gunships and shuttles, Shepard strikes pirate force from behind. Pirates break and escape, Shepard orders all units to fire and destroy retreating and surrendering forces. Order countermanded by General Adams.

[REDACTED]

Shepard orders supporting units to pursue batarians, and as a result, defensive lines north of Adams position weaken. Panicked batarians push through, killing everything in their path, including General Adams. Shepard reiterates kill order and this time is obeyed.

8.10.2176: Shepard personally executes pirate leader Hantha Jones, human, rather than arresting him. Official reports indicates he was executed in escape attempt. Autopsy shows lividity on wrists, legs, indicating he was and had been securely tied up prior and after death. Alliance reinforcements arrive and secure Horizon spaceport.

8.12.2176: Shepard called before board of inquiry, charged with conduct unbecoming an officer and disobedience of direct orders.

8.13.2176: Recently promoted Commander David Anderson acts as Shepard's council. Inquiry board finds Shepard saved the lives of the colonists , managed to preserve the bulk of 2nd and 3rd Battalion, destroyed the pirates, and her lapse in judgement that MAY have caused the death of General Adams is forgivable given she is not trained for battalion level leadership.

8.14.2176: Commendation award recommendation from General Jason von Grath. (Addendum: von Grath and Adams has significant friction, politically and personally). Seconded by newly promoted General Rachel Florez, General Adams replacement (Addendum; Florez had filed sexual harassment charges against Adams repeatedly but these were dismissed.)

8.22.2176: All charges dropped against Shepard. She is brevetted immediately to Operations Chief, with a recommendation for Alliance Officer Training Academy.

8.23.2176: Awarded Medal of Valor, Purple Heart (2 repeats, for serious injuries), Legion of Honor (for saving Lieutenant General Florez in CQB with two krogan armed only with a pistol), Navy Cross.

9.01.2176: Released from medical.

9.03.2176: Enters Alliance Officer Training Command, Annapolis

5.12.2179: Graduation with honors, Alliance Officer Training command. Awarded Purple Heart for injuries sustained in final graduation exam, risked life and sustained life threatening injury to save fellow student from malfunctioning shuttle.

5.13.2179: Promoted to 1st Lieutenant. Upon recommendation of General von Grath, brevetted to Staff Lieutenant.

5.19.2179: Assigned to von Grath's 1st Marine Recon.

6.11.2179: Selected for N7 program. Begins N1 qualifications.

6.19.2179: Completes N1 and continues through N2 program.

8.02.2179: Completes Special Warfare courses (Zero-G, Biotic Instructor, electronic warfare)

Massacre at Dirth

8.19.2179: Emergency deployment to Dirth with 1st and 2nd Regiments, 1st Marine Recon, due to pirate invasion. En route, General von Grath's command ship is holed by mines on final approach and goes down in foothills outside of landing zone. Broken communications suggest they are surrounded by hostiles and the ship's drive core is unstable. Command staff all on board the ship for final briefing. Command staff includes Commander David Anderson.

Infantry dropships establish new chain of command. Brevet Staff Lieutenant Shepard outranks both 1st Lieutenants in charge of the other companies, even though she has only been an office for a few months. Disagreement over command settled when Shepard accuses 1st Lieutenant Jack Parson of cowardice and pistol whips him unconscious. Throwing him in the brig, Shepard lands all infantry dropships in unorthodox patterns, using the dropships to project cover fire and dropping platoons in a broad firing line rather than massed infantry.

Pirates react with makeshift artillery using converted GARDIAN laser arrays. Shepard leaves 1st Regiment under command of it's XO , ordering them to flank down the foothills and flush out pirates. 2nd Regiment is instructed to split in half, one half digging in outside the colony to protect civilians, the other to proceed under cover of 1st Regiment to extract 1st Marine Recon command staff from wreck.

Shepard wires up one of the drop ships for single pilot control and kamikazes it into the pirate base camp, ejecting in an escape pod jury rigged for mass displacement effects 4 seconds before impact. The explosion incinerates 55% of the pirate ground force and obliterates their hardened cover, but kills dozens of marines too close to the blast who were flanking the site per orders. Inquiry notes that if not for the 1st Regiments flanking maneuver drawing the attention of the pirates and the GARDIAN artillery, said artillery would have shot the dropship out of the sky in short order.

Shepard exits pod, video footage shows her cutting a path through pirates on foot to link up with 2nd Regiment, 19 confirmed sniper kills and 2 CQB kills including a krogan with his own shotgun. 2nd regiment , lead by Shepard, links up with command staff, extracting Anderson, von Grath and a dozen other badly wounded officers. Extraction slowed by heavily wounded lower ranking officers. Sending senior officers on ahead with heavy escort, Shepard makes a stand to cover retreat. Since groundcars cannot transport everyone, junior officers with most severe wounds are held back, along with 5 platoons of 2nd Regiment.

[REDACTED]

[REDACTED]

Shepard and platoons hold off pursuit long enough for von Grath to establish command radio links to the sabotaged GARDIAN and orbital defense network. Using network, von Grath takes out pirate support ships and conducts 3 unauthorized kinetic strikes on the planet itself. (Official record until after von Grath's death indicated that a Lieutenant Commander Henry Vore did the strikes, see below).

Bombardment decimates pirates but Shepard's group is still pinned down. Rather than lose everyone, Shepard orders the heavily wounded junior officer cadre to hold the line while the bulk of 4 platoons fall back. One officer, Lieutenant Commander Henry Vore, accuses of her of cowardice. According to eyewitness reports (suppressed by General von Grath) Shepard executed LC Vore for treason , then withdrew the enlisted infantry, leaving the officers to be overrun.

(ADDENDUM: Most details of the battle were sealed until inquiry of 2182. Even after that, we do not know what is truth and what is fabrication by officers who hate Shepard. An execution of such a nature seems very close to a criminal act, which flies in the face of Shepard's behavior since enlistment).

[SECTION REDACTED - Authorization, Donnel Udina, Systems Alliance Authority under Article 9 , Section 3 of the Systems Alliance Military Justice Charter]

[REDACTED AND SEALED - TORFAN OPERATIONAL DETAILS UNDER AUTHORITY OF : Donnel Udina, Systems Alliance Authority]

10.13.2182: Promotion to Staff Commander.

01.19.2183: Selected for SPECTRE Status, Systems Alliance. Assigned to the SSV Normandy as Executive Officer under Captain Anderson.

* * *

**ADDITIONAL DOCUMENTS OF NOTE:**

_Interview with Doctor Jacen Mathew, Sociolinguistic and Aberrant Behavior, University of Pittsburgh, on detached sabbatical and volunteer military service as Director, N7 Mental Health since 2180._

_Interview conducted 1.17.2183 at behest of Captain Anderson, with file release to Dr. Mathew by Major Kyle._

P: Tell me about yourself, Commander.

S: Sir, that is a very large request.

P: Well, yes , but everyone usually has some aspect of their personality they like to expound upon. Some are "people persons", and like to explain themselves in terms of their relations...others use religion, or political beliefs, or hobbies. What makes you a little different from everyone else, is what I'm asking...as a place to start to help you figure yourself out.

S: I'm not sure I can address that.

P: Commander...may I call you Shepard?

S: As you wish, sir.

P: Great. I'm Dr. Mathew. Shepard...is this interview and counseling something you want to do?

S: (3.4 second pause) I don't know. I've been told it will help me understand myself. Or deal with my inability to get past my early life. Or my anger. But I do not know. I am attempting to be as cooperative as I can.

P: I see. Lets...take this a different direction. What is your ... um...yes. What is the target of this operation.

S: Identification and destruction of any psychological issues that hinder my ability to perform, sir.

P: Very good. Forget the psychology. Forget the stupid papers on the wall. Forget I'm a doctor. Tell me .. however you can, in whatever terms you can, why you aren't .. like everyone else.

S: (Silence for 8.3 seconds) I don't understand how to be like ... others. I can't bring myself to trust. I can't bring myself to really care, to feel about what happens to others. I can't imagine what it is like to be in love, or to cry at someone's death. I can feel anger, disgust, and hate. I can be ... amused, by someone's pretension. I can feel... gratitude, when someone helps or does a good job.

P: But do you know WHY you feel grateful?

S: No.

P: Do you have nightmares?

S: Yes. I always have. They let me know I'm still me.

P: Ah. You think the pain is ...

S: (interrupting) The pain is the reminder of what you are. Of what I am. Every time I sight down on a mercenary or pirate in my sights, I'm aiming at me. Every time I break up a drug runner, I'm arresting myself. Every time I stop some slaver from hurting civilians, I'm blowing myself away. Someone should have stopped me, and they didn't. They let me go, and kept letting me go, until I killed so many people that even the corrupt police officers the Reds had bought couldn't cover it up.

P: I see.

S: And then...then...the only family I have gets himself killed ... to get me sent to a penal legion with someone I barely know...and he tells me I have to be the perfect soldier, or I go back to the gas chamber. So I do. Then he tells me I have to protect civilians, and kill pirates, and keep doing until I can forgive myself.

P: And will you ever forgive yourself?

S: No. Because it's easier to keep being the monster and just turn the fear against the pirates rather than the marks. No one cares what it does to me, or to the men I command, as long as we win. They'll cover it up. It will all be a heroic act.

P: But you have done a great deal of good, Shepard. No one is making that up, it's not an "act".

S: It's not a good act if you're doing it because you don't know what else to do. It's not a good act when you want to die and just rest and you are told to keep going. It's not life if you turn down everyone who wants to be closer because you don't know how to be closer. Or even close.

P: Understandable. But the Alliance needs you to be... mentally healthy.

S: Sir, the Alliance demanded I do better than anyone else and I did. They demanded I outperform everyone else, and I did. They pushed me to all kinds of bloody battles no one could win without going insane, but I won them and I'm still sane. That doens't mean it doesn't hurt. And I will always remember the people I sacrificed. Didn't do it for promotions, or valor, but because they told me I had to. When do I get just to ... let it all go?

P: (2.2 second pause.) And you are angry with Alliance for that?

S: No, sir. I am angry with myself.

P: Why?

S: Because the very reason we are having this interview shows me that no matter how hard I try to do what I am told, or how far I push myself, it will never be enough. And I won't ever get to let it all go. I will be moved around like this until I snap, and I am killed, or I am killed in battle. It's punishment for the person I am.

P: Shepard...the Alliance values you immensely. You have achieved things no one thought possible. The most hardened pirate scum in the Terminus systems fall on their knees babbling and surrendering when you show up. But the Alliance does not want to punish you. Yes, you did very bad things in your past, but very bad things were done to you.

S: That's never a valid excuse, sir. All that matters is the success of the mission. (2.1 second pause.) Do you feel my problems are affecting my ability to perform, sir?

P: (5.3 second pause) I don't know, soldier. There are people who hate you because of some of the things you have done. And yet, if you had not done those things, the outcomes would have been worse, every time. The Alliance...Captain Anderson...does not want you torturing yourself. You have proven yourself over and over again. (3.2 second pause). Let me change this up again. What do you do with your free time?

S: I practice at the range, sir. Or physical training, or correspondence courses for qualification in more electronics classes. Or biotic practice. (2.1 second pause.) It was... calming to practice with the asari commandos. They did not seem to judge me.

P: And you think the average soldier you serve with does?

S: I don't really know what they think. They go silent when I walk past. They never bring issues to my attention. It makes it easier to do my job.

P: You mean, to give orders that could get them killed. I see. But ... no hobbies? No favorite movies? No ...

S: They get in the way of the mission, sir.

P: (5.2 second pause) I think you need to take some leave, Shepard. And when on leave you need to find something to do with your time that isn't military related. Have you ever done that?

S: (23.2 second pause) ... I .. I used to collect model ships. When I was younger. I would...wish I was ...somewhere else. Flying out there.

P: Have you ever had a space-side station, then?

S: No, ground command only,sir.

P: (5.3 second pause) Well...a space-side command would be good for you , I think. Get to see Council space. More downtime, more time to .. figure out who you are. I've been asked to clear you for this anyway, but it's good to know that it will be actually good for you.

S: I see...thank you.

P: Shepard. This was...that is, Captain Anderson thought this would be something you would ... ahem, that this would be a good task for you.

S: (3 second pause) ... D...Captain Anderson is the only friend I have, sir. If he says this is what I need to do, then this is what I need to do. Thank you for your time, Dr. Mathew. I need to start figuring out what to study for wherever I am assigned next. (1.3 second pause) And maybe buy some ship models. Sir.


	12. Chapter 6 : Eden Prime, Revelation

**January 23nd , 2183**

* * *

Alenko hurried along behind the Commander, sweeping his pistol around in a slow arc as they moved down the side of the dig site. High walls of tough fabric, supported by hastily erected posts, surrounded the massive holes carved out of the ground, the dig site looking less like an orderly venue of science and more like a giant bomb crater liberally sprinkled with corpses.

_Well, so far this has been a complete disaster, _he thought sourly, eyes half looking at the area around him and half trying not to focus on the curvy form of Williams' battered armor. His head hurt, not a full on migraine, but the nagging, back of the neck throbbing of nervous anticipation and fear.

The dig site itself was fairly nondescript. A circular ramp of earth, pierced in places by heavy granite spurs that the archeology team had dug around rather than through, looped down somewhat irregularly around a grid of smashed bone-white towers that jutted from the earth like the teeth of some ancient giant. In the middle of these was a wide, circular plinth of some gray stone that had an eerie, slick texture, looking as if it was fresh hewn. Not a single one mark or chip on it's surface could be found, despite the mangled corpses of human infantry and geth troopers that were flung, crumpled and otherwise left behind.

Shepard moved with utter silence and focus, Avenger moving back and forth as she swiftly took point. The eyes under her helmet were nothing more than angry grim slits as she stepped past an erected light pole and took in the carnage. The ground was muck here, liberally covered in random bits of gear, trash, and the occasional odd metallic cylinders geth weapons seemed to use. Three human infantry lay in a pile at the entrance , slumped over a concrete barricade, drying blood staining the area a sick scarlet color, as flies angrily buzzed around the ugly wounds in their corpses. Against the far wall, a path led towards the plinth, a geth trooper smashed into several segments propped up against the hastily carved wall.

"Stay sharp. Geth may still be here." Shepard's voice was utterly calm and even, setting Kaiden's teeth on edge. He felt as if his hand would bruise from his death-grip on his pistol as the three stepped past the geth body into the central area. More human bodies, some shot, some torn open from explosions, all tossed around carelessly. Digging equipment bulked off to one side, with several more geth troopers and the still smoldering bulk of a Prime unit around the largest of the bulldozers. Fires flickered in the small hab units along the far side of the dig, along with piles of broken crates and a severed, blackened arm.

The plinth itself was empty, and Williams frowned. "The Beacon was right here, ma'am. I.. I remember falling back from here." She pointed to a corpse on the ground near the center of the plinth, the figure's blackened armor melted from heavy fire. "That was LC Garcia, ma'am. My CO." Her head fell, her features twisting in sorrow.

Alenko hesitantly placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she angrily wiped her eyes. "He just found out his wife was going to have their first kid...shit..."

Kaiden nodded. "It's okay, Chief. We'll get them."

Shepard , for her part, was scanning the battlefield, eyes cold. "Stupid defensive setup. They let the fucking Geth flank them on both sides." Her mouth was a grim line as she moved to the edge of the plinth. "Track marks. Looks like they used a power sled or something to move something heavy up this road towards the tram-line."

Alenko pulled his hand from Williams' shoulder, giving her an awkward pat on the back, and glanced over at Shepard. _Not one for personal emotions, I see. _Out loud, he spoke mildly. "We haven't run into any geth, it's likely they are falling back to their ship if they already have the Beacon, ma'am."

Shepard nodded. "Let's move. Up this road, hit the tram access, and find the thing before they get away." She tapped her omni-tool." Normandy, this is ground team. We've lost contact with Nihlus and the Beacon is not at the dig site. Recommend defensive posture."

Anderson's voice crackled over the comm, the weird jamming signal blocking communications strong enough to warp even short range comms. "Understood, Commander. We've recovered the Mako...and Jenkins body. Be advised we're picking up ground movement near the spaceport. We're going stealth, moving to the far side of the moon...let us know if that dreadnaught gets into the air."

"Copy sir. Shepard out." She put away her assault rifle and withdrew her sniper rifle instead, and gestured. "Williams point, fire suppression. Alenko, rear, hit anything that moves with your strongest throw. Double time."

The three marines ran up the far side of the dig site, weaving past bodies and shattered equipment. The Prothean towers at the edge were blackened with scorch marks, and occasionally Williams uttered a name under her breath, recognizing the corpses they passed on the ground. _Goddamn, how do you get over watching your entire unit get slaughtered in a matter of minutes and keep it together? _Alenko shook his head as they began the ascent, the low slope of the ramp providing good traction.

Coming out into the top of the escarpment, the three had a good view of the terrain below for the first time. In the distance, the heavy black dreadnaught still towered over the landscape, suspended over what looked like a lake of fire. Sloping down gently from the ridge they were on, a meandering dirt path lead right towards a collection of pre-fab units, with low barricades and stacked pallets of supplies and cargo crates out front. Two of the pre-fabs were shattered shells, pouring smoke into the already blackened skies, bodies hanging out of shattered windows or slumped in doorways that opened into raging fires. Two more of the pre-fabs were open to the air, and one looked sealed.

Beyond that, the dirt road turned into a concrete path, angling down past a series of metallic loading platforms to a long and cluttered dock area, a heavy crane and stacks of crates and building materials in long piles and rows lining it's edges. Stands of trees framed the edge of the platform, and cliffs rose in sheer progression to the left, running all the way to a broken hillside. A placid stream ran alongside the path, turning off before the platforms to meander across the plain, and over this a heavy, reinforced walkway lead to what looked like the tram station itself.

Set along the right edge of the cliffs were 4 tall, ugly spikes made of black metal, each standing 12 feet high. Impaled on these spikes were human corpses. Alenko hissed in dismay.

Williams merely frowned. "T...those weren't there before, ma'am. What the hell are they?"

Shepard motioned them forward, eyes sweeping back and forth over the terrain, and then halted. The spikes made a grinding sound, and then slowly retracted in sections, lowering the bodies to the ground. As this happened, Shepard focused on the closest of the corpses, and realized something was horribly wrong with them.

Each one wore armor, or at least bits and pieces of it, but their skin was blackish blue, as if completely bruised, and .. withered, drawn tight against sinew and bone. Their faces and flesh were shot through with faintly blue glowing machinery of some kind, tracing along the limbs, to meet in two heavy lines of radiance below the eyes, which were just pits in the face, glowing an angry blue-white as they fell to the earth. Hair sluiced away from semi-liquifying skin , revealing bone, as the four figures slowly stumbled to their feet, motions jerky and uncoordinated.

Alenko's voice was wild with horror. "What the hell..."

The four figures stumbled closer, their motions smoothing, arms lifting as they went from a zombie like stagger to a shambling run, mouths opening to reveal shattered black teeth and eyes wide. Shepard fired, her sniper rifle taking one directly in the head, venting a quarter of the skull to the air as the tungsten round tore into the thing, jerking it back and to the ground with a wail. The other three rushed closer, electrical discharge radiating over their twisted forms. "Fire at will!"

Williams opened up with her Avenger, stitching rounds across the remaining three. The lead husk of a human being took half a burst in the chest and legs, abruptly coming apart and tumbling to the ground. The other two took several shots but simply staggered on. Shepard fired again, this time a hot load, the inferno round spearing the leftmost creature in the face, detonating in a bright blaze of white phosphorus, sending it spinning around, clawing at it's face as it burned.

Alenko concentrated, willing, pushing the tingling in the back of his neck down his outstretched arm, blue energy radiating down his form. A pulse of dark energy lashed out, catching the last creature in mid-stride and smashing it violently against the cliffs with enough force to send limbs flying. The thing fell dead to the ground with a sharp crack as it landed head first, shattering the neck and spine.

Shepard walked to the one she had shot first and turned it over with a booted toe, taking in what had been done to it. The skin looked as if it had been sucked dry, taut against the underlying bones, and the blue cybernetics were slowly losing their glow. Lines of black tubing riddled the body, each one ending at points along it's neck, which were heavily bruised. The battered chest-plate it wore bore the Alliance stencil "212 – B6 GC Yallen".

"Williams, you know a gunny chief called Yallen?" Shepard's voice was even, calm.

"Y..Yes ma'am. She was one of the NCO's the LT put in charge of protecting the scientists we left at the camp, ma'am. I..is that her?"

Shepard tilted her head, and then shook it with disgust. "Impossible to say, chief." Prodding her omni-tool, she raised her comm link. "Nihlus, you copy?" Only static answered her, and she shook her head again and sighed. "Normandy, this is ground team. Copy?"

The transmission was even worse this time, thin and static-laced. "Copy ground team."

"Sir, we've found some kind of .. geth machinery..and it looks like they've done something to some of the corpses, sir. Turned them into some kind of … husk. Full of cybernetics and drained of fluids. Not sure why, advise any recovery teams to be wary of large, tripodal spiked platforms with bodies on them, corpses are not recoverable."

"The hell? Copy , ground team. This is not looking good."

Shepard snorted as she killed the comm. "No shit, sir" she muttered under her breath, and then glanced towards the intact prefab unit. "Let's check for survivors then head to the tram station."

They jogged over to the prefab, finding the door securely locked. Shepard pulled up an infiltration program on her omni-tool and set 450 runtimes at the door software, which shuddered under the assault and disengaged with a loud clank. A whimper shot out from within the pre-fab.

"Commander Shepard, Alliance marines. Come out now."

"Oh thank god." The door opened, revealing two figures in the unisex one piece field overall commonly used by research teams in the field. One was a man with drawn, pained features, sallow skin and haunted green eyes set off by graying hair in a widow's peak, his spare frame hunched over as his hands twisted together. The other was a woman of oriental heritage, her face set in weary stressed lines, black eyes full of horror and her hair set back in a severe bun. "I'm Dr. Sarah Warden, from the University of Serrice, and this is Manuel Cayce, comms decryption tech. My assistant. Where...where is Lieutenant Commander Garcia...?" Her voice, a weak contralto, wavered in the silence of the pre-fab.

Shepard shook her head. "Dead. I need to know what happened here."

Manuel spoke, his voice disjointed, broken. "Here? Here is where the end of life begins, the circle closes."

Warren sighed, troubled lines appearing on her face. "Ignore him, he's not well. When we unearthed the Beacon it..interacted with him in some manner, and he hasn't recovered yet. All we know is that we were prepping the Beacon to move when that huge black ship landed and geth appeared everywhere. Garcia tossed the team's study computer into my hands and locked us in here and slapped some kind of lock on the door, and all we've heard since is heavy fighting."

Shepard nodded. "Did he say anything about the Geth?"

Manuel looked at Shepard, eyes wide, pleading. "Agents of the destroyers. Bringers of darkness. Heralds of our extinction, or blind fools?"

Warden gently pushed Manuel back. "Manuel, please. As I said, Commander. . . we don't know anything. I remember hearing screaming about 'geth dropships' and 'spikes' but that is it."

Shepard considered this. "And the Beacon?"

"It appears to be some kind of communications device, maybe a router or a storage unit. It..interacted with Manuel here, but only briefly, as if he wasn't what it was looking for. It didn't bother activating for anyone else, and there was no interface unit of any kind. It seemed as if it was drained of power, perhaps on standby." She stepped back , pulling something from a computer on the shelf behind her , and held it out. It was a standard OSD. "This is all the notes and research we had, at least, what was on the main field computer."

Shepard took it, sealing it in her belt. "You said Manuel interacted with the Beacon?"

Manuel only shuddered. "We have unearthed the heart of evil. Awakened the beast. Unleashed the darkness. You can't stop it. Nobody can stop it. Night is falling. The darkness of eternity …."

Warren gave a lopsided smile. "Manual was not very stable before this event, commander, and he saw his entire comms team get shot to bits immediately after interacting with alien technology. I'm not sure what he says can be taken as anything but...well..madness at this point."

Manuel's eyes widened, and he grabbed Warren's arm, shaking her. "Is it madness to see the future? To see the destruction rushing towards us? To understand that there is no escape? No hope?"

Shepard tilted her head, then lashed out with her fist, striking Manuel cleanly in the jaw. He slumped to the floor with a thud, and Shepard shook her head. "Goodnight, Manuel."

Warren looked outraged. "You can't just-"

Shepard cut her off with an icy glare. "He's unhinged, exposed to unknown factors in alien tech and probably in shock. Have you ever seen what happens when people snap completely? I have. Lay him out on that cot over there and make sure he doesn't get up again, I'll send someone to police this area up and get you some help."

Warren stepped back, shaken. Williams, frowning, unclipped her pistol. "Here, ma'am. Just in case." She handed it over to the scientist, who took it with ill ease and held it awkwardly at her side.

"Normandy, this is ground team. Mark location. Two survivors of the science team. One has mental trauma."

"Copy, ground team."

Shepard jerked her head, and the three marines backed out, heading down to the concrete path to the tram access platform. Shepard paused, taking in the shattered remains of a geth slumped against the wall. "This shotgun blast. It's from a sawed off weapon."

Williams frowned, not getting the point, but Alenko nodded. "Like the ones Nihlus had." Shepard nodded, and the three proceeded down the path, coming to a platform overlooking the cargo area. Shepard paused again to examine three downed geth nearly melted into the ground, but Williams pointed. "Ma'am..there's a body on the platform."

Shepard glanced over and cursed. "Move." The three got to the platform's edge, descending the ladder that terminated on an access road running next to the platform. Running flat out, Shepard leapt over a cargo hauler's low deck and scrambled up onto the platform proper, weapons ready.

Nihlus lay slumped against some crates stacked near the far wall, the entire top of his head blown apart, his face smashed in and covered in drying blue blood. His chest armor was compacted and splintered by a dent the size of a soccer ball, and a crater of a hole was blown into his left chest, going clean through the other side of the armor. His LMG was loose in his hands, and his shotguns were tossed carelessly to the side. He sat in a pool of his own blood, sticky and starting to dry. One eye was missing, torn apart by whatever blew his head open, but the other was staring blankly up at the sky, still as vividly green as when Shepard had met him on the ship.

Alenko grimaced. "Damn, he looks like he went out hard."

Shepard glanced around, looking for clues. A patch of blue blood, speckles here and there, nothing that gave any hint of what was going on. Geth footprints. A pile of corpses, burning, most only bones and ash now. Bloody drag marks indicating the pile had been created sometime after Nihlus was dead, as some of the bodies had smeared the blood pool at the turian's feet.

Nihlus's omni-tool was missing. Shepard cursed. "Normandy...this is ground team. Nihlus is dead. I repeat, Nihlus is dead. Looks like he went down hard, sir."

"...copy ground team. Goddamn this mission. Any sign of who did it?"

"No, sir. Pile of bodies looks like they got policed up after the fact, more signs of geth but no geth on the platform. And the Spectre's omni-tool is missing. Anything he recorded is gone."

Anderson's voice was tired sounding and wavery. "Understood, ground team. See if you can't -"

The transmission was interrupted by what sounded like an explosion. Shepard turned, and watched as the huge black ship rose into the air on a plume of white-hot exhaust. "Sir! Dreadnaught is going space-side!"

"Copy Shepard. Going silent and landing on the moon. As soon as that thing is gone we'll pick you up. Try to find out if they took the Beacon."

Shepard nodded grimly. "Come on, let's move."

* * *

"**We move towards ascension. Be ready.**"

Saren shuddered as the Voice moved within his skull. He sat in the Chair, mind alive with emotions and rage.

"Spirits curse you, fool boy. Why...why did you have to be there, of all places!" Saren examined his taloned hands, as if expecting them to be drenched in blood. He remembered the final look of the turian he had trained himself, the expression of disgust.

"Nihlus didn't understand what was at stake. There is a cost to all things." Benezia's voice was cool, but carried an undercurrent of sorrow. Saren stared at her a long moment before snarling. "Would you say the same if you had to blow your daughter's head off?"

Benezia closed her eyes, shuddering, before nodding. Saren's mandibles twitched in annoyance and some other emotion he could not...would not admit. "..that was .. "

Benezia slowly glided to his side, her features unreadable. "I am sorry, Saren. I know he was your friend, as you said. But he would have killed you without remorse, and I cannot do this on my own."

The turian only held his head in his hands. Of course, the geth would choose this moment to report. "Saren-Prophet, Prime Unit 302 reports detonation device for the primary explosive unit has failed. It is making repairs. ETA until completion is 21 minutes. Units 209 and 114 report devices in secondary positions are in place."

Saren nodded. "And the beacon?"

The geth's eyeflaps adjusted, as if perplexed. "The Beacon continues to deactivate any synthetic brought within 10 feet. We have no methods to move it."

Saren sighed, and Benezia shrugged. "The vision from this one seems...fragmented. And it almost killed you. Best we leave it behind."

Saren looked up between his talons, and for a moment just looked at Benezia. _What happened to the times where I was just fighting evil and you were just helping me make it through one more night? When did we go. .._

Icy, iron thoughts lanced through his head. "**Weakness is a sign of those unwilling to ascend. **" Saren shuddered, clearing his mind. "You...never mind. We must leave this system before reinforcements arrive."

The geth bowed. "We will ensure the runtimes on the planet remain until detonation. We will keep one ship to receive their transmitted archival copy 7 seconds prior to detonation and return to Virmire-Base." Saren waves the machine away, not caring if the geth on the planet lived or died. "Benezia...I need your commandos to probe ExoGeni, to find more Beacons. This is...not enough. The volus's expeditions to supply archeology teams only provided us with four sites, none of which had a Beacon"

He paused, eying the Geth as it departed. "Still...Eden Prime was a major victory, the beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit."

Benezia nodded. "And one step closer to the return of the Reapers. And with no one the wiser, if Cerberus does it's job correctly."


	13. Chapter 7 : Eden Prime, Escalation

_A/N: Somehow I managed to blow this chapter up - fixed 12-13-12_

* * *

**January 23nd , 2183 **

* * *

Anderson's large hand was curled around the headrest of Joker's chair, fingers digging into the cloth as if hanging on for dear life. "Emissions levels, Joker?"

The pilot grunted, hands flying over the golden glow of information that shifted almost too fast for Anderson to even follow. "We managed to bulk-vent the waste heat when Adams shunted the freshwater tanks across the radiator vanes on the anterior array. Right now we have all non-essential systems shut down except temperature control, life support, and the drive core, which is idling at almost dialed in g's to the moon."

Anderson nodded. The CIC behind him was as silent as a tomb, as if "running silent" meant people had to be quiet. The view-screen displayed four views of the giant black vessel, 3 from dropped remote probes, the fourth from the camera in the ventral sail assembly. "This had better work."

Joker nodded mutely. The sheer size of the thing, the obvious power of it's eezo core, the speed at which is broke orbit - all of these things were horrifying. A ship that size shouldn't even be able to land, much less boost to space in 41 seconds and pull a turn that would have snapped even the Normandy in half with G forces. They had dropped observation beacons as soon as the thing had launched, and vented as much waste heat as possible and engaged stealth, hastily setting down on the dark side of the moon facing away from Eden Prime proper. Slunk into the far wall of an old impact crater, they had to hope the message Anderson had hastily programmed into the beacons would be taken at face value.

"This is Captain Anderson of the SSV Normandy. Eden Prime is under geth attack. Any ship entering this system should fall back. We have departed the system to get help, all comms are jammed. There is no one in this system to defend you, perform an emergency jump back immediately."

Joker watched the huge black ship soar through space. It's lower end, the part that looked nothing more like a vile, grasping hand, began to open, and ruby red light shone from some sort of aperture at it's base. With almost titanic force, a torrent of red light tore through space, lancing through the first beacon, then the second. A pause, and then a final red spear erupted, blasting the third into a cloud of superheated metal particles.

Joker cursed. "Some kind of wide angle LADAR ping just clipped the hull." Tense seconds trickled by, Anderson's hand beginning to cramp, droplets of sweat sliding down the small of his back, tickling.

_God, Kahlee...I wish I had told you how I felt, rather than dying like this..._

The alarm on the ECM panel stopped suddenly. Joker's hand was shaking slightly as he paged through a menu, then he pumped his fist. "Fucking YES. Big bastard is lighting out, sir, full on towards the relay!"

Anderson suppressed a shudder of relief and exhaled. Focusing a moment to calm himself, he gave a wry smile. "Well, Joker, he probably didn't think he could survive a dogfight with you."

Joker half twisted around in his seat to stare at Anderson. "...who are you, and what did you do with my hard-ass of a captain?"

Anderson snorted, the broad planes of his face breaking into a gentle smile. "Good work on the dump and setting us down. Let me know when that thing relays out so we can pick up our team."

"Roger that, sir. . . jumping jalapenos, that sonofabitch can move. It's going at mark 118, sir. Three times as fast as that Salerian tricked out frigate in the last Citadel Relay Event."

Anderson watched the sensor screen, the mirth on his face drawing back down into hard lines. "118? That's … how much eezo does that thing have?" Shaking his head, he turned to head down the ops alley to CIC. "Pressly, report!"

The NavOps officer nodded, hands moving over the system displays for heat management. "Dumping that water on the vanes cooled us down, but the remote sensor units are shorted out. Once we drop out of stealth , going back in will be tricky. Kinetic barriers at 100%. I show the orbital space around Eden Prime as clear."

Anderson nodded, arriving at the turian-designed status console and slapping a heavy hand on the comm panel. "Adams, status."

The dour, dry voice of the chief engineer sounded through the CIC. "Mass core is stable and holding at within 1% of the planet's G force, to avoid distortion effects. Ships power at 94% sir. Serviceman Rhanna is angry that the showers and toilets don't work now that we have no water. I can get the recycling still going on the greywater, wastewater and coolant tanks, but we are going to have to resupply ASAP. We need some of that freshwater for atmosphere electrolytic heat regulation."

Anderson ran a hand over his scalp. "Understood. Prepare to bring us up to full power on the core." Shutting down the comms, the captain turned back to Pressly. "I need a heavy energy pulse for maximum transmission power as soon as that damned .. thing.. goes superluminal. I need to punch straight out to Arcturus for backup and to the Citadel Council ASAP. Make it happen."

Pressly rushed off, and Anderson grimaced and strode to stand at his place overlooking the CIC. "Joker, ground team status?"

"All hard-suits in the green, sir."

"Good. Keep me informed, Joker, and prep the ship for lift. Is that thing gone yet?"

Joker's voice was all business. "Yeah, but we...have a problem. It just relayed out, but 3 other ships are incoming. Blue-shift projection says they are batarian, sir. Cruiser class."

Anderson clenched his fist. "Joker, we can't take down three cruisers." He paused. "Get me the ground team, and prep for transmission."

* * *

Shepard's team moved over towards the tramway, weapons ready. Shepard had taken scans of Nihlus's death scene and appropriated the dead turian's LMG, the heavy weapon comfortable in her hands. Behind her, Alenko's face was in a grimace of concentration as he kept up a barrier field in front of them to protect against snipers, while Williams brought up the rear, tracking with her Avenger back and forth.

The tram-line hung over the river, extending off into the distance. Some 65 feet below, the river splashed into tumbling rapids, heavy boulders and jutting cliff sides sending a glitter of spray high into the air, momentarily dispelling the ever-present scent of death , burned flesh and metal. A rainbow glimmered briefly in the reflected droplets, some of them cascading down to mist gently across the team.

The cool wind and spray flickered over Williams , making her jaw tremble. _Fucking geth killed my team! They killed them , and I couldn't stop them. _The human woman's grip on her weapon was tight enough that her knuckles stood out whitely , strained. Her eyes were bloodshot and darting around, and anger burned through her like some kind of bubbling, hot tar, scalding and unbearable. "Where the fuck are the fucking geth!"

Shepard glanced back over her shoulder, hazy blue-grey eyes narrowing behind her visor. "Keep it sharp, Chief. Emotion just gets you laid out on a slab like your unit if you let it get in the way of the mission."

Williams gritted her teeth. "Yes, ma'am."

Shepard moved ahead. There were several minutes of silence as they moved towards the tram, finally coming across the final segment. A heavy cargo tram was here, strips of packing wire and spools of slack cable indicative that it had once held something heavy and oblong in place.

Williams cursed. "Shit, they've moved it to the space port. You think they made off with it?"

Shepard nodded, then frowned, kneeling down. Muddy footprints were on the flat metallic walkway, both geth and human. "I can't tell if the geth ambushed them when they were moving it, or if they had already moved it and the geth came after." She glanced around, frowning deeper. "No bodies, no mass accelerator holes, not a single plasma burn or ejected geth clip."

Alenko had moved behind the sled to the control panel. "I've recalled one of the trams, ma'am. Should be here in a few minutes.

Shepard nodded absently, then stood. "Williams, sniper position, behind that console. Alenko, oversight with biotics. If anything is on that tram that's not human, I'll throw a warp field and you detonate it. If that doens't work, I'll use a charge and try to knock them off."

Williams nodded coldly. "Be happy to, sir." Unslinging her mud-spattered rifle, she flipped up the scope and loaded up a spool of heavy impact ammo.

* * *

The network was ice, a broken web of data that trickled along arbitrage/negation lines. Runtimes skittered along the dark lanes of non-connect/no carrier, illuminated only by the static-edged dim light of the occasional FTP ping response.

Prime 302 Downlink to Prime Alpha-Prophet was focused on the bomb. The physical non-software world was unoptimized. 332 runtimes struggled to constantly map physical surfaces with low-scale ladar pings, and 82 had to slave all cognitive processing to interpret it. 191 runtimes maintained the battle readiness of the servitor-construct that the collective inhabited. But almost the rest of the 2,290 runtimes on board focused on the bomb.

Eden Prime was a nonoptimal, it's FTL wideband connections still in shreds from the damage done to the planet's comm array by Nazara-Giver-of-Future, but even without that, the download of the technical documentation should have been completed by now on any mainline colony world. But facts could not be altered. The required documentation was incomplete. Even if it had been, repairs to the device, which had been damaged by a wild shot during transport, would require a machine lab with sub-scalar scanning capabilities, and at least three parts they didn't have access to. A jury-rig was possible, but required too much time.

Runtime 4X/V-Command started a consensus thread.

4X/V-C : _dis-optimal solution. Estimated time to repair of detonation device: 29 minutes. _

B-211-A:_ non-computing fail error. Saren-Prophet requires detonation in 10 minutes, 54 seconds. Long range comms arrays detect Cerberus/Alliance Soulwatch false-flag batarian cruisers in approach lane. _

67-T:_ unable to comply. Bomb is not operable. Secondary nuclear implosion will not function. _

45-A: _Suggestion: documentation suggests blast radius upgrade unnecessary. Replace with long-decay delay radio-nucleotides. The over-net washes out with blue light of data analysis. _

The digital sky tears open, runtimes rappelling down shifting waterfalls of data, maps, blast pattern charts, chemical formula. An inventory of the spaceport manifest is downloaded by 5 runtimes, with one time escalated to top-tier runtime analysis.

B-211-A: _Spaceport inventory: 54 single-photon emission computed tomography systems. Manifest details: planned utilization for x-ray imagery of Prothean/Failstate ruins. Systems each contain 1.2 kilograms of Gadolinium-153. Isotope is unstable, half-life of 240.4Â±10 days , emits gamma radiation with strong peaks at 41 and 102 keV. Boosted by detonation, fallout emission will edge into the MeV range. _

A pause. Calculations.

67-T: _Irradiation sufficient to blanket area of 1,717,854 square Creator-Thousandfoot spans. Estimated time to removed needed material, 3 minutes, 44 seconds. Estimated workforce time to repair and implement detonation, 4 minutes, nines seconds. Estimated time to transmit all runtimes to orbital shuttle-oversight, 44 seconds. Total time, under 10 minutes, 54 seconds. _

4X/V-C: _Authorization required. Begin assembly of material. Consensus poll. _

The consensus forms, washes like a tide...and crystalizes. 2,011 runtimes vote for the plan.

In the real world, a subtransmission signal goes out the geth units standing nearby. 16 proceed to the heavy cargo crates at the far end of the spaceport and begin opening them.

Prime 302 uplinks to orbital shuttle-oversight. "Adjudicated plan change. Technical document corrupted. Onsight repair facilities lacking within required time constraints. Detonation force of bomb insufficient. Will explosively salt device with locally obtained active radioisotopes."

A long, static filled delay before Saren's voice rasps across. "... ahh. You are indeed vicious, machine. The radiation will deny the area to investigators for many days, correct?"

"Affirmative. Emissions estimated to be of sufficient gamma intensity to sterilize all life within area roughly 19.3 times total area mass, Palaven City. Within one solar cycle all higher bond DNA chains will decay, obliterating trace evidence. Site will be denied for approximately 240 to 280 days." The machine did not bother to mention that with the quantity of fallout debris that would be thrown into the air, not only the local area but most likely the entire planet would be contaminated. 65 kilos of Ga-153 was almost ninety times what would be needed to irradiate the entire colony. The planet would die, utterly and completely.

"...well within our time line. By the time they sort everything out, we'll have found the Conduit. Do it." A pause. "Make sure you offload your mind, or whatever you things do. You are the first geth who thinks in a way both I and Nazara approve of."

The comm line goes dead. The collective pulses a pale, satisfied green. The signals go out. Unit 44-Perpetuity Guard fails to notice the #3 tram accelerating back towards the cargo terminal as it too is caught up in the wave of reverence for Nazara-Giver-of-Future.


	14. Chapter 8 : Eden Prime, Conclusion

_**A/N: Updated December 12  
**_

* * *

January 23nd , 2183

"Ma'am , the tram car." Ashley gestured with her sniper rifle, pointing out the rapidly approaching rectangular platform. The car had low walls on all sides, but no roof, and appeared to be free of battle wreckage. "Looks clear."

Shepard sighed. "That means there's no one on the other side most likely, or they would have shut it down or sent a welcome party."

Alenko smirked. "Or they're just dug in waiting for us, ma'am." He stood, easing off his amp and folding arms across his chest.

Shepard glanced at him for a long moment before giving the trace of a smile. "Smartass."

Alenko coughed, and nervously glanced away. "I, uh, aim to please. Ma'am."

Shepard only nodded, turning away, eying the tram. _They're only treating you nice because they don't know you well. Don't put anything into it. Focus on the mission, not the eye candy. _Glancing away from Kaiden, she turned to look at Williams and then sighed internally. _No, not that eye candy either. Dammit. _

The tram car slammed to a screeching halt, it's rails a bit scuffed , signs of poor maintenance or excessive use under loads it was not designed for. _Like hundreds of geth soldiers, most likely. Fuck it all, this is gonna end badly. _Shepard stepped forward, tapping the interface on the tram's control panel. "All aboard."

Williams gave a tiny , tired laugh as she and Alenko hopped on. "Next stop, Geth station, ma'am?"

"Yeah well..." Shepard reached out to steady herself as the tram lurched. Williams was thrown back, crashing into Kaiden, who instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off. "T-thanks , LT."

"No problem, Chief." His eyes were sad. "We've lost enough of the 212 for one day to let you die in a silly accident. Speaking of that...are you okay?"

Williams blinked hard several times, then gave a grimace. "I will be. I just need to kill some fucking geth."

Shepard gave her a sardonic smile. "You'll never be able to kill enough to get it out of your head, Williams. Trust me, I've tried and tried."

Williams said nothing, unsure of how to respond to that. The sheer deadness of the woman's voice, the tiredness in her eyes, threw a chill over her own hot-blooded anger. But then she remembered Bhatia, blasted into agonizing death on the ground right next to her barely 20 seconds prior to pickup. "With all due respect, ma'am, have you ever lost your entire fucking unit?"

Alenko winced, as Shepard's expression shifted from a blank stare to a grim, ugly smile. "Three times, Chief. You can either cry about it, or use the anger to get the job done. Either way, if you can't deal..."

Williams gritted her teeth. "I'm fine, ma'am."

Shepard's eyes met Williams, and the younger marine shivered under the sheer malevolent .. emptiness of that look. "Just pull that trigger when I tell you, Chief, and you'll be fine." A bitter note crept into her voice as she turned away to look at the approaching spaceport. "If you're lucky, Alliance brass will pat you on the head for not dying, and give you a piece of tin and ship you off to another place to get killed."

Alekno placed a hand on the gunnery chief's shoulder, cautiously. She snapped her head around to glare at him, but he only shook his head softly. His eyes were sympathetic, but carried a warning in their gaze, and Williams shrugged his hand off. "I am fine, ma'am...but I apologize if I was out of line."

Shepard gave an almost lazy wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it, Chief. Your unit just got fucked over and out. You're allowed to be upset, if that's your thing. I could care less if you call me a frigid bitch and hope I die in a fire...as long as you kill the goddamned fucks that did this, you're in line."

Williams bit her tongue but spoke anyway. "How did you get over it? Losing your... unit? More than once? All your friends, all the memories.."

Shepard slowly glanced her over shoulder at the marine. "Never had friends, and the memories were nine parts boredom, and 45 minutes of terror." She turned away, hands unshipping and opening her Avenger rifle. "Movement, at the space port."

Williams exhaled and lifted her sniper rifle, the scope auto-flexing to bring the distant end of the tramline in order. "Geth, ma'am."

Shepard nodded. "How many?"

Williams swallowed, suddenly pale. "Ah...um...a lot."

Alenko narrowed his eyes. He felt for the younger woman, but they needed her to be sharp right now. "How many is "a lot", Chief? 10? 20?"

Williams lowered the scope in horror. "No, sir. I'd say company strength, sir. At least 75 of them."

Alenko gave a sharp inhalation, but before he could speak, the silence was pierced by low, almost breathy laughter. Both Williams and Alenko turned to Shepard , who was .. smiling.

"It's about damned time someone gave me a fight on this stupid hick backwater of a world." Her smile faded. "Listen carefully. There's no damned reason for the Geth to still be here with the ship gone unless they're doing something. Maybe to do with the Beacon, maybe concealing evidence. Whatever it is, we need to –

Her omni-tool chirped. "Warning. Radiological alert. Unauthorized isotopes in excess of Alliance authorized dispensation detected. Please notify local law enforcm-" the VI voice went dead as Shepard silenced the alarm. The three of them just looked ahead silently, until Williams summed it up nicely.

"Well, _fuck."_

* * *

The sub-network flashed an alarmed white-red. Non-geth data streams interrupted, ladar pings picking up movement of the third tram car. It was within visual confirmation distance.

No units were near the car controls panel. Active sensors painted the incoming hostiles. Local net archives were breached searching for data.

_No data found/Williams-OrganizerOfWeaponscombatant-within parameters. _The breached local Alliance military network spilled forth human measures of threat, all meaningless without context. _No data found/Alenko-SubDecisionNode Ground Warrior Prime unit. _Images of Alenko using biotics, reports from the local net. _Within parameters._

_Primary threat identification complete. Data found. Shepard-Predator-Commander. 1.2 TB combat data. Classification: TotalDeath/NoCarrier threat level. _

_Retargeting parameters.  
_

* * *

"Holy SHIT!"

The three marines ducked as every geth unit on the spaceport platform opened up at once, hundreds of rounds pouring in. The tram shuddered under repeated hits, the controls shattering under the blast of a rocket that sent Alenko skidding to the deck, barely holding on to the edge of the car. Shepard cursed and ducked down, almost prone to the floor.

Williams lay on the floor of the car, gripping her carbine. "Shit! They're gonna blow this thing off the tracks! What do we do?"

Shepard smiled. "Alenko, find whatever caused that radiological alarm and disarm or destroy it. Williams, cover Alenko."

Williams eyes bugged out. "Are you fucking nuts? How the hell do I do that? What about the Geth ARMY over there?"

Shepard smirked. "Relax, I got this." She rolled out out of her crouch and stood in a rapid motion, lifting up on the balls of her feet, and vanished in a blue flash. A streak of blue light slammed into the ranks of the geth lined up at the edge of the platform's edge. There was a blast of energy and several loud booms as she impacted a Prime, shedding dark energy in shockwaves that sent geth platforms flying like bowling pins.

"STRIKE, BITCHES!" Shepard gave a howl like an enraged hyena, snarling as her right hand flared with blue radiance, spilling out in a wave of energy, slamming across the ranks of the geth. She stood, extending both hands, bursts of dark energy rushing out like a tidal wave to crush the serried ranks of geth. Legs bent backwards and snapped, arms wrenched out of joints and flew off in all directions. 11 geth were already wrecked by her charge, some tumbling 80 feet to the ground far below, others smashed against the wall with bone crushing force. 19 more stumbled around the platform, still recovering from the system-loss of the Prime unit Shepard had slammed into, which had been bent double at the waist, it's entire upper torso bowed outwards by the force of the impact.

She ducked under the scything fire of two geth on the upper level and retaliated, her free hand pulling out her pistol and placing a single shot in each geth head, both troopers pinwheeling off of the overhead catwalk with digitized screeches. The group she had stunned were recovering, bringing weapons to the ready, but Shepard twisted her hand, inverting the dark energy she had summoned. Her amp hummed in her skull as she strained, exerting all her might not on the geth themselves, but on the structural support rods keeping the heavy crates on the high walls of the platform from collapsing.

With a shriek of tortured metal, the truss tore free from the wall, and a broad shelf of metal, used to store dozens of crates of building supplies originally intended for the dig site, collapsed in a slow wave. Crates weighing hundreds of kilos plunged down, some crushing the geth into splinters of metal and splashes of white ruin, others crunching completely through the thin decking and carrying geth to watery doom 80 feet below, the synthetics spinning in the rapidly dimming sunlight as they slammed into the shallow riverbed below.

In less than a dozen seconds, seventy eight geth had become nine. Their communal network shattered, the remaining units fell back to auto-programmed responses, firing blind suppressive patterns at the primary threat. These were ineffective as Shepard athletically leapt aside behind a low crate, a moment later her hand flicking up and outwards. Three disk grenades tumbled through the air for a few moments before detonating in mid-air, collapsing the rest of the cargo shelving. With a slam and a hollow series of booms, the rest of the right side of the platform collapsed, the geth skidding across the suddenly slanted decking as it fell, tumbling end over end before smashing into the already mangled remains of their fellows below.

The tram slammed into place, Alenko and Williams stepping off and looking at Shepard , jaws hanging open. Shepard's hands trembled slightly, the after-rush of biotic exertion shivering through her like ice sliding along her skin. She took in a large breath – and choked it off as Williams was slammed back to the wall nearest the tram by a blast of plasma, her gun flying from suddenly nerveless fingers, collapsing to the ground in wash of blood.

Alenko yelled, pulling his pistol with one hand and snap firing at the Geth Prime that just stepped into the platform from a tunnel leading to the spaceport proper. His shots pinged off harmlessly as the massive 12-foot tall war machine stepped down, it's giant plasma cannon barking again, tearing a basketball sized hole in the wall inches from Alenko's face, pattering him with burning metal. He shrieked, pistol hurled away as he spun in agony.

Shepard's mind flashed through old memories for a split second – _LT Capp, falling dead as he blocked a shot from that turian sniper , Major Kyle, bloodied and broken as he watched both his sons bodies carried off the field, glancing back at Shepard with tears in his eyes. . . "why didn't you protect my boys, Shepard? I trusted you despite everything..."_

Shepard roared, a crazed sound,and let loose with the Revenant. The heavy machine gun spun up in a cyclic roar like twelve chainsaws inside a firing jet engine, the stream of heavy tungsten spikes cutting into the shields of the Prime, sending cascading storms of dissipated energy down it's huge frame.

Prime 302 turned the cannon on Shepard but she was already moving. The first plasma blast missed, searing past her head close enough to glaze the material of her visor. She slid along the smooth metallic floor, dropping the gun and triggering her biotics. A disc of dark energy skidded along underneath her sliding form even as she focused on lightening herself.

A second shot, blasting the decking in front of her, pitting it with white-hot plasma. She slammed down a heel, her entire body pivoting like a see-saw to an upright position as she made her disk angle upwards like a launch ramp. With a grunt of effort she leapt, high in the air, drawing back a fist as she skinned her teeth in a snarl.

Prime 302 stepped back, adjusted the choke on his cannon, and fired directly at Shepard as she slammed down towards him, the blast meeting her in midair in a flash of glaring , blinding plasma energies.

Energies that were rent aside as her barrier parted them, her fist glowing with biotic power as she now focused all her weight, her rage, her anger, her fury into one strike. She slammed into the Prime with every bit of power in her soul, eyes blazing in rage.

"You won't kill my fucking CREW!"

Alenko flinched as the entire spaceport seemed to shake, his head ringing from the blast of a biotic explosion. Wind rushed past him, scattering bits of old paper and a couple of leaves across his face before it died down. To his left , Williams groaned, her armor baked and cracked, blood leaking from her mouth.

Swallowing in sharp pain, Alenko stood. He now saw a large cylindrical device in the mouth of the tunnel the prime had come from, along with the shells of what looked like dozens of rectangular beige boxes hurled willy-nilly around them. Chunks of a pale yellow-grey pasty substance were scattered about, his omni-tool blaring visual alarms about radiation.

He coughed, peering off to his right. Picking up his pistol, he advanced slowly to the smoking hole in the decking where the Prime had stood. A geth arm, red painted and heavily armored, lay next to it, the forearm warped into a bizarre curve by the sheer force of what ever severed it. He waved a hand, smoke clearing from the glowing mess in front of him.

The Prime unit lay prone, smashed almost two full feet into a circular indentation that must have radiated out 11 or 12 feet. The metal was compressed, almost bruised looking – cracked, warped, discolored in many places, glowing red in others. Much of the bulk of the Prime above it's chest was simply gone. Hundreds of splinters of red metal studded the area of the indentation, the crates next to it...

And the figure that knelt at the Prime's feet. Shepard's fist was a bloody mangled ruin, skin stripped off in flayed , jagged segments to reveal torn, seeping muscle and white bone. Her armor on her left arm was warped and broken, with bits of geth armor shoved through it in places. Her helmet was cracked, a huge split in the visor spearing back towards the aural sensor pads covering the ear , the other side blackened and smoking. Her chest was heaving, but the armor covering it was deformed, blood trickling in rivulets from cracks along the side. She looked up, and her eyes were alive with hot fires for just a single, aching moment.

"..C...commander?"

She blinked, and the fire died. "Fuck, Alenko, do I look like a Geth?"

"n-no...that was … Christ, that was _**insane.**_"

Shepard stood, very unsteady on her feet, her right leg trembling. She staggered, and he caught her by the left arm, feeling muscle spasms as she fought to stay upright. A long piece of metal had pierced her thigh, transfixed from front to back. "I'm .. fine."

A weary cough made Alenko turn his head. "Bullshit...ma'am." He hastily reached into his belt pack, cracking open a canister of medigel and slathering her entire forearm and hand with it wincing, at the grisly mess that was her right hand. Williams slowly sat up , cradling her head, touching her temple where a wash of blood and burned scalp made her flinch away from the pain. "You look like...shit, ma'am. But that...that was fucking _awesome_."

Shepard swallowed. "I don't like...geth...or anybody else...fucking with my crew."

Alenko exhaled, feeling a strange sort of warmth at being called 'her crew'. He pushed it down, focusing on the mission. "I see some sort of device over there, ma'am. Can you walk?"

Shepard nodded, wearily. "Yes , lieu... Alenko. Go. I'll help the Chief up." She limped over to the gunnery chief, who was angling herself up using a loose piece of metallic wreckage like a cane. The two women slowly hobbled over to Alenko, who was carefully stepping through a series of haptic interface menus.

"This bomb is a mess. Salarian detonator, but the casing and first stage scale up is human. They … they salted the bomb, commander. Some kind of isotope from .. what are these?" He picked up one of the beige boxes, and grunted. "Huh. Something to do with X-ray machines." Tossing the empty casing aside, he tapped three commands , and the interface went from red to green. "Sloppy work, ma'am. I honestly expected some kind of genius device here."

Shepard looked around, frowning. "They must have been in a hurry." Her head rotated, stopped. "Through this tunnel. There." She pointed, a green radiance washing along the edges of the far end of the tunnel. "What is that?"

Alenko shrugged. "Let's find out."

Shepard nodded, pausing to trigger her omni-tool. "Normandy, this ground team, come in."

Joker's voice was tense. "Thank god. Commander, we lost telemetry on your suit and ships sensors detected some kind of explosion. Is everyone alright?"

Shepard sighed. "Stupid geth did _not _know who it was fucking with. All team members alive, but we are pretty banged up. Alert Chakwas. We're going to need a rad-safe team down here, too."

Anderson's voice broke in. "For what?"

Shepard shuddered. "Some kind of amplified bomb, sir. There's enough goddamned high-powered shit here to kill krogan, much less humans. Geth were really , really anxious that no one find out what happened here."

Anderson's voice was grim. "We'll get it figured out. Status of the Beacon?"

Shepard hesitated. "We're about to the end of the spaceport now, sir. We'll update you momentarily."

"Well hurry it up. Three batarian cruisers jumped in just after that big battleship left. They haven't moved, but we don't know their intent. If we break stealth , we're going to have a hard time going back to it, so we have one chance to scoop you up and get out of here. I'll notify the main tower about the attack and cleanup."

"Yes sir." Shepard deactivated the comm. "Alright, let's clear the spaceport and get out of here. "She sighed, Nihlus's powerful gun had been ruined by her reckless nova-charge, and her ODIN shotgun was damaged as well, the cowl bent and buckled. She pulled out her sniper rifle and gestured. "Move out."

The three marines staggered ahead again, the short tunnel evidently a customs checkpoint. On the far side, weapons scanners and a reinforced security station sat in an elevated corner, overlooking a broad open transit area, probably for air-car docking. Cargo crates and cranes cluttered both sides of the open space, the left pierced by doors leading into the spaceport proper.

Two things competed for their attention. To their right, a vast lake of smoldering lava sat , heat pouring off of it. The melted, twisted wreckage of buildings at it's fringe only helped put context to it's size , nearly 800 feet wide, the planet had been very literally cooked by the landing and departure of the huge ship.

Williams's whisper was hoarse. "It's like a bomb went off. Or an orbital strike. My god..." In the distance, they could see two more arcology towers, both shorn in half and on fire. Williams closed her eyes, knowing that each tower held thousands of colonists...and these had been gutted with the vile ease of a man plucking the wings from a fly.

Shepard, on the other hand, fixed her gaze on the tall, silvery-green pillar that stood somehow proudly from the top of a cargo tram. In front of the tram , six dead humans had been piled, each one carefully head shot. A neat pile of geth lay to the left of that. Oddly enough, none of the geth had a single mark or wound on them to indicate why they were inactive. Alenko moved closer, scanning.

"..what the hell happened?" Alenko's voice was quiet, almost reverent, but Shepard had no answer. She only eyed the alien device closely, noting the green , shimmering energy that radiated from it, rising like smoke into the sky.

Shepard shrugged, then froze. "Quiet." Half turning, she moved with as much silence as her tortured body could muster, slowly converging on a set of high crates in the corner. She lifted her sniper rifle, leveling it. "Come out. Now."

There was a whimper, and a sad faced human man stood up. His features were almost comical – watery huge brown eyes, a limp face with drooping jowls and a sour, lined mouth. Mousy brown hair fell in messy tangles from a head mostly covered with a ratty green and yellow knit cap, while his coveralls were discolored with grease and other less identifiable fluids. "D-don't shoot! Please! I'm human!"

Shepard lowered her weapon. "Who are you, what happened here, and how the fuck did you survive?"

The man trembled, his voice weak. "I.. I am Delan. Please don't .. kill me."

Shepard nodded, and faced the man fully. "I need to know what happened here." She spoke each word carefully but quietly, a dangerous look in her eye.

Delan slumped. "I..I'm just a dockworker. You know, manual cargo management. I just.. move crates around. I don't know everything. I was moving cargo when that .. ship came out of the sky, with this...noise, like a jackhammer in your mind. It..it was...the worst sound I have ever heard. And I wish I hadn't."

He paused. "I remember the spaceport security stacking up , getting weapons. One told us to hide behind something , stay out of site. So I did that, and a moment later there was a blast. I guess.. I guess I hit my head." He gingerly rubbed the back of his skull."

Shepard nodded. "What next?"

"I came to...sort of, groggy I guess. I remember almost standing when I heard the machine soldiers making that creepy clicking sound, talking to each other. Then I hear this humming sound. A grav plate is carrying that beacon thing over to the platform edge, and it's humans operating the grav plate. Six of them. Behind them are these geth things, but at a distance. I saw one get about 10 feet from the beacon and just drop dead, boom. They get it in place, and then this...turian walks out. Big guy. Black armor, scary looking, big pistol. He starts giving the Geth orders, and he .. he shot the people who had been working the grav platform." With a shaky hand, he indicates the pile of corpses next to the Beacon.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. _Some kind of anti-geth weapon? But the Protheans were dead along time before the damned Geth showed up. _The man was still speaking. "He said something about a guy, some guy named Nighlus or something like that. He was upset he had to kill him, cursing, throwing a fit, and one of the geth guys says he hast to calm down and he just punches it. It collapsed, and another , bigger geth calls the turian Saren-prophet."

Delan wipes his eyes. "The turian left, but I could see the geth things building working on some kind of machine, doing that..chittering. They were talking to someone over their comms, had some kind of argument, something about big bomb and repairs."

Shepard frowns. "They did not see you? Did they search the dock area, anything?

Delan casts his gaze to the ground, as if looking for something. "I was still behind the crates...they only searched during the initial invasion I guess, must have thought I was dead. All I know is they're working on this thing, and then this Saren guy walks right up to thing and touches it. It sort of opens, and this green light comes out, and he is floating him in midair. After a few minutes, it lets him down, and he starts trying to get the geth to move the thing. "

A long pause. "They can't, it just … shuts them off whenever they get close, and he's already shot the humans that were moving grav platform. He … gets really angry, shoots a couple of the geth, shoots the Beacon about a dozen times, then .. then he just...walks off. Been shining like that ever since."

Shepard glances speculatively at the device. Williams and Alenko are examining it closely, and neither seem to be lifted up or anything odd. She shrugs, but the man continues. "Anyway, almost all the geth get on the big ship and it takes off, but a bunch are still hanging around. They aren't as coordinated before, dropping things, making a mess. I figure if I hide out, someone will come along. Just .. trying to survive. Maybe... I should have fought them, but I would ..die."

Shepard snorted. "You don't even have a weapon. We've shut down their bomb. Stay put, an Alliance team will be here to debrief you."

She turned away, moving towards the Beacon. "Normandy, this is ground team. Beacon is secure, I repeat, Beacon is secure. Looks like there was someone else behind this attack than just Geth, sir, someone called Saren."

Anderson's voice is tight, almost pained. "Copy , ground team. You did say Saren, correct?"

Shepard doesn't like the tone in Anderson's voice. She's never heard it before. It's almost ugly. "Affirmative, Normandy. We have another survivor, at this position, and a big pile of geth bodies with no battle damage."

"Understood, Shepard. ETA 15 minutes until we're ground side for recovery. Hold your position. Normandy out."

Shepard slowly walked over to Alekno and Williams. "Anything interesting?"

Alenko had been scanning the Beacon with his omni-tool. "Not really, ma'am. Readings don't make a lot of sense. It seems –" he breaks off as the Beacon flares, the light intensifying as Shepard steps within 10 feet.

Shepard is lifted into the air, back arched, as if crucified, eyes glowing the same green as that of the Beacon, and drawn closer to it...

_I am Tyth Kashan Avatar of Understanding _

**burst of pain **

towers flash by on the horizon, the ground cover sweet and wet with the purple moss of home, Bithra glittering in the dark of night as the shapes of Reapers fall from the sky like a rainfall of doom, lances of bright fire

**Burn free of mortality, child of chaos**

_We have to evacuate the Symphonies of Defense, the Taken ones have come! The city is burning!_

Broken, shattered skylines. Screaming children, inner and outer eyes wide in senseless pain, mouths open as spikes shatter their tiny frames. Endless armies of the Taken, bodies twisted into nightmare forms , each worse than the last, obscenely hopping forwards..

**You MUST understand**

_I am the Avatar of Understanding, there comes a darkness which devours all_

red-tinged fires, burning flesh in a wave of pain. The machines come, they pierce, they rape and tear, the swarms cover the sky, the water turns to blazing poison, the air itself is lead in our lungs

_Praetor, we cannot delay! The Citadel has fallen, the Penumbra Apex has broken, the broadcast must go out! _

**You WILL understand, child of our making. **

Agony

the screaming, the stars burning with the single, feared shaped, the curling leaf opening it's dark arms to embrace all in death

Agony

chittering monsters with glowing eyes feasting on our flesh, implants buried in our minds, the burst of the black mist, as we melt into impurity

AGONY

_You must do … what we could not .. they are COMING …_

AGONY

_Oh, fallen glory, sun – spun might of a thousand, thousand suns burnt down in the face of the machines...the Zha'til were our warning , but we did not heed_

**This one must understand**

**Complete **

**Incomplete **

"SHEPARD!"

She falls, unaware of anything but bright bursts of pain in her mind, her body, wondering why her vision feels so flat and the air so dry a moment before all senses leave her, the darkness engulfing her not stopping the bursts of pain that echo throughout her form until nothing else is left.

The voices are so dim now... "Normandy come in, we have a fucking medical emergency, the Beacon attacked Shepard..."

"Omigod, her eyes are bleeding..."

Ah... silence at last.


	15. Chapter 9 : Tali

**A/N:** _**Long chapter. I'll try to keep them a bit shorter, but there was a lot of stuff to go over in this one. I could really use some feedback on this one, I feel as if I'm cluttering the story with too many OC's, however minor. And I'm never sure if my Tali feels right, AU or no AU , Tali is always Tali. **_

* * *

January 24th, 2183

"Breaking news! Geth attack on Eden Prime kills tens of thousands! Alliance not commenting!"

Tali'Zorah nar Rayya wrung her hands helplessly as she glanced around the Caleston spaceport, her feet shuffling in a nervous little dance of anticipation , exhilaration, and fear. Her environmental suit gleamed in the dim light of the transit lounge, hexagonal reinforcement shapes giving sharp relief to otherwise subtle curves set off by twists and wraps of the soft purple Rayya _reik _she wore. Her gaze never strayed from the gigantic human in front of her, glacially calm and still.

"H-how much longer, Mr. Dost?" She cursed the stutter in her voice, but she was still very shaken. The lounge was crowded, full of dark corners and … aliens … glowing, floating things, hulking krogan, sharp-featured turians. Even the lowering, grumbling mass that was an elcor. She felt exposed, nervous, and more than a little overwhelmed.

The man turned, eyes dark under the gleaming brim of his cap. His Alliance uniform was all dark blue leather and soft panels of deeper blue cloth, slashed with ribbons, encrusted with the emblems of rank humans seemed to attached to. He stood almost 7 feet tall, and to Tali looked like he could pick up a cruiser, his forearms the size of her legs.

His face was very pale, set in hard lines crossed by ugly, welted scars, and it spoke of hard, vicious battles against odds that no sane man would endure. One hand was gleaming metal and plastic, whirring ever so faintly as he opened it in a casual gesture.

"Miss Zorah, I don't know. Right now, with what is going on at Eden Prime, the Alliance fleet is in a very confused situation. We've had reports of geth attacks in several other locations as well. I understand you are still in the process of decrypting that information you recovered from the geth you killed?"

Tali gave a nod, standing a bit straighter. "Yes. My omni-tool is reassembling the data in the correct matrix format for me to try to interpret it. It's not compressed enough to be video, so it has to be audio, but I have no idea what geth would be doing with audio transmissions. I.. I just worry we'll run into... more of those men who were shooting at me."

Lieutenant Dost shrugged., but also pats his heavy pistol. "Don't you worry about that. I can handle any more trash that can't mind their manners. My .. orders are pretty clear – get you to the Citadel so Alliance and Council techs can take a look at this material. Our method is a little sketch, but just have faith." His face eased into a grin. "Besides, you're pretty hot with that shotgun if you ask me, snatching data from a geth after you take out two of them. Always thought quarians were, ah, kinda frail."

Tali blinked, happy that her faceplate kept her emotions unseen. "Um...thanks? I-I mean, honestly, even krogan probably seem frail to you. You're so... big."

Dost laughed, a booming noise of mirth that got him an irritated look from a turian ahead in the line. He met the turians gaze with an ugly glare, and the alien turned away, mandibles moving in deprecation. "Stupid plated chicken...anyway, ma'am. I wasn't trying to insult you, I'm sure your people have to be tough to survive as long as they did. I'm sure the Alliance will be happy to get this data."

Tali looked down. "Everyone is usually so... dismissive of us."

Dost snorted. "None of that, Miss Zorah. Us underdog species got to stick together. I can guarantee you after the way the Council treats humans, we're not likely to take their damned word for it that your people aren't worth much, especially after a couple of kids from your fleet saved Admiral Nechanir from that pack of geth bastards on Lastrudo and you bringing in actual geth intelligence."

He sighed. "That being said, the Alliance isn't going to just accept whatever you find on that thing without a lot of good reasons. That's why we're doing this a different way. I just need to make contact with a guy who should be here any moment and we – or rather, you – can get this into the hands of people who can use it."

Tali nodded, but still worried. "What if it's just...junk?"

The big human snorted. "You said it yourself, miss? Why would geth have audio logs? Ain't like they decided to catch the latest episode of Fleet and Flotilla. I'm sure what ever it is will be useful, assuming my contact shows up before we expire of old age..." He pauses, squinting , and then smiles. Lifing his head, he gestures bluntly at a slender figure in gray and black , moving with a calm elegance, who came walking down the very long transport line. "And here's my contact now."

Tali looked up. The figure approaching was a drell, a reptilian alien normally found only in hanar space. His face was almost humanoid, but comprised of thumb-sized scales that overlapped smoothly, framing a wide mouth with almost sensual, grooved lips, a short nose, and huge, gleaming eyes that seemed to take in everything. His head was topped by a fringe of the scales set in an irregular pattern, all dark blues and blacks. His tailored open coat was gray, and he wore a loose silk shirt under it, leaving his heavily muscled chest bare. Soft white and gray slacks that clung almost indecently tight to heavily muscled legs tapered down to the most curious pair of foot coverings Tali had seen yet, leathery and almost to his knees, richly embroidered with tracings and stitching, coming to metal capped points at the end and elevated on heels. Tiny spinning stars on each heel clinked musically as he sauntered to a stop, his features twisting into an easy grin.

"Goddamn, Troyce, you still wearing those stupid cowboy kicks you got on Earth?" Dost held out a meaty hand the size of Tali's head, and the drell shook it, smiling. His voice was a grave, grating rattle that sounded like rocks across a metal screen. "They are comfortable, Jason, and give an easy introduction of the exotic and devastatingly handsome alien to anyone human."

"That they do, you silly lizard. Ma'am, this is Captain Troyce Nihar, Hanar Ascended Primacy, retired. Private captain now, does recon and courier work for the Alliance. Troyce, this is Lady Tali'Zorah rar Rayya, daughter of Admiral Rael of the Migrant Fleet."

The drell's lips quirked in a grin. He took her hand in his own, gently and lifted it to his lips. "Charmed, Miss Zorah. I admit to have only met one your people, a rather gentle soul named Shala'Raan."

Tali swallowed at his gesture, and then started at the name. "She...ah, she is my aunt. You know her?"

Troyce shrugged. "I aided her in locating one of her wayward students, or something of the sort. She did not give many details, something to do with a trip that is taken as a rite of passage?"

"Y-yes, the Pilgrimage. You helped one of us?"

His eyes darkened. "In a way. I returned a quarian's body to her, he was robbed and killed by … criminals. They paid the only such price the hanar have for murderers, violence unto violence."

Dost cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but I called you because this is important. Now, I got a lead from a junk dealer on this planet that Miss Zorah found something big while wandering on her...Pilgrimage, was it? Anyway, little lady got jumped by geth who didn't think she had a shotgun on her. Two dead geth later, she managed to salvage some kind of audio file from them."

The drell's scales flexed. "Impressive. I did not believe geth could be salvaged."

Tali nodded, having learned the gesture over the past few months from both humans and turians. "Yes. You have to be..very careful and quick but you can often salvage the secondary storage banks they use to transfer information for archival to other hubs. It's sometimes useless stuff – 8 hours of sensor logs, for example – but it can also be useful. But THIS data is audio .. and geth don't use audio to talk to each other , they have the network." She realized she was babbling, something she did too often when nervous, and tried to clamp down on it by twisting her hands together again.

The drell paused, then glanced at the blaring news on the holonet. "You think this is related?" He gestured with his chin, images of burning towers amid a blackened landscape displayed, Alliance fighters crossing the sky like enraged bees.

Dost shrugged. "There was one Alliance ship on sight. Early reports say they found a dreadnaught, and then later batarian cruisers showed up. There's no way the geth could have found out about whatever kind of op was going on down there. I heard from … other sources .. that a Spectre was killed on the ground at Eden Prime. A lot of questions are being asked. And **I** think the geth have to have contacts in Council space, organic contacts, for them to be on Eden Prime during...whatever the hell went down. This could be they key."

Troyce fingered his chin. "Huh. Well, if they did, pirates and smugglers would be the best bet. So, why aren't you putting this in a pouch and giving it to the Alliance brass? Alliance loves killing pirates almost much as they do wearing fancy uniforms."

Dost rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid, cowboy lizard. Look, I trust quarians because I've been living with one for almost 8 years. I get a lot of shit from other humans about it, but she has no where else to go due to being exiled. But just because I am willing to listen to Miss Zorah here does not mean the Alliance will. I send this off in a packet saying it came from some quarian teenager, and the local command will laugh themselves silly before tossing it in the trash." He paused. "No offense, ma'am. But some of my superiors are nothing but a bag of anthropocentric dicks, and in human culture you would be a child."

Dost looks around carefully. "No, I got a better idea. I have a … contact. You probably remember him. Fist."

Troyce nods. "You … are sure of this? I have no doubt the .. person he answers to will be interested, but that is a risky proposition."

Dost shrugged. "He can get it into the hands of people who will take it a hell of a lot more seriously than if we deliver it ourselves. And … .well. I'm not 100% sure about this, but twice we've been trailed, and once – just a few hours ago, actually – someone took a shot at her. I think someone knows she got this data, she was a bit … too open about letting people know what she found at first."

Tali slumps a little, wringing her hands together again. "I'm sorry. I was just...scared, and not sure what to do or where to go."

Dost drops to one knee, putting a hand on the tiny quarian's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo. You did okay. I know Kiana'Shaal is a bit of a bitch, but she was right to tell you that skedaddling back to the Migrant Fleet with this wasn't the best idea. We'll get this to someone who will pay you a great deal of money for it, money you can use in your Pilgrimage." He stands, smiling.

Troyce is still for several moments, before nodding and keying his omni-tool. "Miss Zorah, my ship, the HAV_ Sullen Cloud, _is at private dock TR-44. I've transferred an entry code to you. If you're intent on this, I can get you to the Citadel and to a meeting with an .. agent .. who can get this information to the correct people."

Tali nods. "I... I guess I am ready to go , then. We...travel light on our Pilgrimage, it's all in my haversack." She nervously hefts the small pack of her belongings, and the drell smiles. "Go ahead, then, Miss Zorah...I need to get clearance to depart this overcrowded place, and finish up a couple of things, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Tali turns to Dost. "Thank you...and … thank Kiana'Shaal as well. Tell her I will speak to my father about her exile, she has so many skills the Migrant Fleet needs."

Dost chuckled. "I'd …. actually rather you didn't, Tali. I sort of like having her around, we've been bonded for about 7 years now. "

Tali flushed, again very glad for the mask, having utterly misunderstood why the two were living in the same apartment, and nothing but a confused stutter issued from her voder. Dost turned to Troyce. "I have that effect on all the quarian girls, apparently."

"...bosh'tet!" Tali is blushing, not just because of her mind thinking about what it would be like to be skin to skin with .. her mind blanked and she just wrung her hands more.

Dost grins. "Just teasing. Anyway, you should head on up to the ship, Tali. I'm pretty sure I can get him cleared pretty quick."

"O..okay. Thank you gain, Mr. Dost." Tali begins walking, following the directions from her omni-tool, trying to stay to the walls in the cavernous transit lounge before turning a corner out of sight. Dost exhales, and looks hard at Troyce. "The Broker was very clear – make sure she gets to Fist. There's 50,000 credits on delivery. I don't know why , but it was made VERY clear that no other contacts are to be used for any reason. When you're done, find a krogan named Urdnot Wrex and give him the details."

Troyce frowns. "That's...a rather large sum for a simple trip to the Citadel and a walk around the wards, old friend. Do you know anything?"

The large Alliance lieutenant shrugged. "Bits and pieces I heard yesterday. They found a Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime and sent in a Spectre along with the Butcher of Torfan to recover it. The geth got there first. Lots of speculation about grainy video of a dreadnaught five fucking times the size of the Ascension."

The drell's eyes widened, mouth hanging open. "Arushu, protect us all." He shook his head , and folded his hands behind his back. "Sending a Spectre along with a human whose name is a byword for 'psychotic killer' is an indication they knew something was up, perhaps?"

Dost shrugged, yet again. "Like it said, this shit is all very … sketch. TOO sketch for my taste. I'mma just do my job and keep my lil' quarian honey happy."

Troyce gave a trilling snort. "It's Kiana. She's never happy. I bet she just _loved_ the idea of helping out a quarian admiral's daughter."

Dost shook his head. "Yeah, I'm in the doghouse, as we humans put it, for a while. It's okay. I can catch up on my Fleet and Flotilla, that always works. For all her bitterness sometimes, she's still a sap."

Troyce placed a hand on the big human's shoulder. "I'll get Miss Zorah to the Citadel. Don't worry. You... take care of yourself, you big _jahan_. I'm getting too old to bail you out of trouble."

Dost smiled, his pale skin glinting in the lounge dim lighting. "You too, old lizard. At least TRY not to seduce the poor girl, she's not even 20 yet." He handed the drell a data card. "Fist is at Chora's Den nowadays, moving up in the world. But be careful. I heard someone say the Broker is watching him closely. Could be good...or bad."

Troyce smiled. "I am always careful, my friend. As the hanar say, this one did not achieve age through foolishness."

* * *

An hour later, Troyce finished the initial jump from Caleston, smiling as the little quarian next to him nearly bounced in her seat. "I still can't believe the hanar just gave you a light frigate as a retirement gift. It's amazing." The interior of the small ship was light and clean, faint yellows and dark reds the primary colors. It was crewed only by the drell and four mechs, it's drive core room entirely automated.

The drell leaned back in the pilot's seat. His haptic interface was dark green, with overlays of ultraviolet that his modified eyes could see but any passengers could not. "Yes, well, I was a _very_ successful captain for almost 25 years, Miss Zorah. I fought pirates, batarians, rogue turians, krogan, more batarians, the occasional mercenary band, crazy biotic cults, this one pack of really pissed off asari ex-commandos… did I mention batarians?"

Tali laughed, the glowing eyes behind her faceplate crinkling. "You did. Still..."

Troyce placed his gloved hands behind his head, lean body relaxed. "You are right though...the gift was mainly due to me rescuing an entire Prothean pyramid from looting pirates, saving several high ranking hanar priests who had gone to visit the site for religious reasons. My brother died in that fight...the Hanar felt the least they could do was ensure my retirement was well paid and I lack for nothing."

Tali nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about your brother, Troyce. I .. I haven't done a lot of fighting, just a couple of close calls with some very rude turians and those geth. My father made me practice with the Migrant Fleet Marines, though, almost every week."

"Ah, the MFM. Tough little bastards. Not exactly spit and polish, perhaps, but they are brave and pack some nasty info-war tricks in those suits. I worked with a Dan'Reegar on a mission almost 20 years ago to recover a quarian on his .. .Pilgrimage, was it? Damned mess, but everyone got out alive. Except a pile of dead batarians, which brightens everyone's day. "

Tali gave a small chuckle, wondering at the way no one seemed to like batarians much more than they did quarians. "Troyce...I've had a lot of people give me ugly looks, accusing me of being a thief or worse... I knew people didn't particularly care for quarians, but I didn't expect to be spat on or refused service. Why are you...and Dost...so . .. nice?"

The drell rubbed the side of his face , his other hand adjusting course as the ship angled towards the next relay. "Dost didn't explain this, but he actually saved Kee – sorry, Kiana'Shaal – from a very nasty run in with some bigoted turians who were about to puncture her suit for sadistic amusement value. He's .. well. He's very protective of her, and as a result, I've noticed he tends to be pretty nice to the few quarians that run through Caleston. Maybe he feels like your people get a bad rap for nothing. I don't know. Most of the Citadel races don't care about anything that isn't in Citadel space, as if 17 million people suffering on rickety ships because of a single mistake entitles them to feel superior."

She nods at that. "Have you known him long?"

Troyce laughed. "Yeah. I knew him from my last years as a captain, but after that, well...I helped him get the decon chamber off an old hanar cruiser, actually. Took a few months, but we got it rigged up and active, so that Kee has a safe place she can be without that suit on."

Tali's eyes widened. "A.. a private clean room? For just her? Keelah...that's … he must really...care for her." She tried to imagine the sheer luxury of being able to have a truly clean room whenever, then flushed when she realized what it was most likely used for. _I wish I could have something like that. No, I wish . . I could have someone like that._

The drell nodded. "Yeah, he is. People joke about it, but she is fiercely devoted to him – like, stalker level obsessive – and he is the same for her. Anyway. . . long story short, he's got a really good understanding of your people that almost no other human has. Don't count on other humans being so nice. They can be nice...or downright Arashu-shunned evil."

Tali considered this. "And you?"

Troyce shrugged. "Me? My religion says... " He pauses, searching for words, and then smiles almost bitterly "...it says that everyone is flawed and we all need forgiveness for the sins our bodies commit. Judging people beforehand is .. bad. It pollutes the soul with thoughts that are neither true nor healthy, and it puts your active judgment to sleep in the name of looking down your ridge at someone. I don't have time for that, I judge people on their actions."

Tali nodded, hesitantly. "But why do people think we are thieves? You can't take anything back that is stolen from your Pilgrimage, and the Fleet..."

Troyce sighed. "People are short sighted. And your people live in all concealing suits. The Fleet never has forgotten that the Council did nothing when your people were chased from your planet, and the stress the Fleet can put on a system means a lot of people lose jobs to cheaper, more efficient quarian labor. I don't agree with it, mind you. But it exists for a reason."

The drell's lips tightened for a long moment, and he stared blankly off into space. Tali said nothing for several seconds, before carefully touching his arm. "T-Troyce?"

The drell shook himself, shoulders hunched. "Sorry. Lost in memory. Doesn't matter. If you take no other wisdom from an old fool of a drell, remember this, young lady. The Citadel is the worst place in the galaxy for anyone who is not confident in themselves. Everyone there is looking for something, and most of them are looking to imprint someone else's eggs for free."

Tali considered his words, the strange metaphor at the end notwithstanding. "Not everyone. You are helping me. So is this person I am going to see."

Troyce shrugged. "If your information is good, he and I both get paid by the Shadow Broker. I … do want to help...but don't think Dost or I are doing this totally out of the goodness of our own hearts." He pauses, a worried expression crossing his face. "But the stuff in the news may be related to this, and the Broker will pay very, very well for something he can sell to the big boys , like the Council or the Alliance High Command. The very last damned thing we need is geth running around with those stupid flashlight heads, killing people."

Tali leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. "I have heard rumors but I know nothing about this Shadow Broker. Can you tell me something about him?"

Troyce smiled wider. His teeth, she noticed, were actually a solid curved plate of sharp bone, "The Shadow Broker is a complete enigma. No one knows where he – or she – operates. His agents are everywhere, such as myself – " he pauses, giving her a grandiose bow from the waste that sent her into giggling "- and his motivations are unknown. NO one crosses him unless they want to die a short, messy death. He has done some very good things at times, and a lot of very bad things, but he has one firm rule that hasn't been violated in decades or longer – anyone who is bringing him intelligence is safe. Sacrosanct. I do know that Fist – the man we are going to see – is a dedicated agent, so at least you will be safe."

The ship slipped through yet another mass relay, booming into the next system with a flash of light. The VI chimed. "Venting heat. Citadel Landing is on approach communications."

The drell carefully entered in the comms frequency on the data card he got from Dost, and the comm unit flickered. "HAV Vessel, this is Citadel Landing. You are cleared to dock in bay J-33. Your landing fee has been paid."

Troyce grunted. "That's..weird. I knew the Broker wanted this intel, but .. wow. He must have people on hand waiting for us." He smiled. "You about ready to get off my little ship and see the Citadel for the first time, young lady?"

Tali bounced in happiness. "Yes!"

The old drell chuckled. "Well, you should be safe enough here. But just in case..." the Drell leans under his seat, and pulls out a heavy pistol, which he clips to his belt, and a shield generator. "Better safe than sorry, rule always kept me alive."

The drell eases the ship into the long dock with the elegance of long decades of experience, his scaled hands drifting over the ship controls in a dance of small motions. With a light set of thumping sounds, the small frigate is clamped to the docking bay, magnetic clamps swinging down and out on heavy hydraulic arms to secure the vessel.

Tali looked out the bridge window, eyes bright as she saw the Wards of the Citadel for the first time, five massive islands of blazing light, giant skyscrapers arched in alien shapes, a billion blazing lights making a web of gold and white as traffic surged through airways and ground paths like the bloodstream of some massive, exotic starfish. The diffuse purple light of the Widow Nebula framed everything in hazy spirals of smoke-like galactic dust. "So...beautiful."

Troyce grins. "You ain't seen nothing yet. Wait until you walk around on the Presidium, that really will blow your mind." He turns to the ships main computer, punching in the code for airlock release, and checks his pistol again.

The drell hears the hiss-clank of the airlock door as they traipse out of the bridge and onto the main deck. Triggering the airlock, they step through, and down the short row of steps that arise smoothly from the floor. The docking bay connects to his ship via two long, wide walkways, narrow rails along either side, the open space of the ring below them , trailing off thousands of feet to terminate only in the eerie silent and unmoving half-light of the nebula.

Approaching down the ramps is the welcoming party, but ominously enough it is neither C-sec officer and scanning crew or shady turian mercs in the Broker's black armor...but two krogan, clad in thick ugly plates of dark gray and with the blunt shapes of several heavy weapons hanging from their over muscled frames. . The drell stops, hesitantly, as Tali stands beside him. She turned her silver-eyed gaze up at him. "Troyce..."

The drell placed a hand on her shoulder. "No matter what, young one...if I tell you to run, you run. The place you need to get to is down the hall , and then down stairs to your right, Bechjtet Wards. Ask for Fist."

The krogan march forward, thudding footfalls sounding like the boom of the surf he still misses hearing after all these years. Troyce takes a step forward, pitching his voice strongly as he did in his days in command, eyes fierce and his stance aggressive, confident. "Where's C-Sec? And if you work for the Broker, where's your card?"

The rightmost krogan sneers, revealing square-set, sharp teeth under it's gray plates. "Heh, the Broker. That's a good one. Listen up, lizard. Give us the girl, and you can get back on your little ship, with your life." Both of the warriors pull out shotguns, their muzzles seemingly the size of Tali's wrist. Her eyes widen –

"GO, TALI!" Troyce leaps forward gracefully, clearing almost a dozen feet with a biotic leap, his right foot catching one krogan across the face as he lands and spins, pistol firing. Tali sprints, remembering his words, but terrified. She angles down the right-side ramp, curved legs pumping with all the speed she can muster, toes splayed for better traction. A shriek of pain echoes through the landing bay, but she dares not look back. Her heart feels like it's in her throat, her breath fogging her faceplate as she gasps.

A snarl sounds, and guns blast. There is a twanging sound as the railing next to her shatters, bits of railing spraying across her suit, and she staggers as something hard and heavy smashes into her hip. Alarms blare in her head, the clamping feel of internal sealing snapping around her left thigh and waist. Pan fans out in all directions as she staggers to her suddenly weak knees, shields gone entirely. Medigel pools against her hip, cold and sticky.

She half turns as she tries to get back to her feet. The drell captain fires again, pistol spitting white fire as rounds stitch into the heavier of the two krogan, which staggers back, pieces of armor splintering off and gore flying as it is slammed into the edge of the docking ramp. It gives an ugly, trailing cry as it's vast bulk is slammed by a wave of blue light, the biotic throw overbalancing the huge form , sending it spiraling into the depths below.

But that act gives the other krogan enough time to charge, shoulder slamming into the drell's lightly built form. Troyce is smashed against the hull of his own vessel, grimacing as his pistol slips from now numb fingers. The krogan headbutts him viciously, bony crest crushing thin scales with a sickening squelch.

"TROYCE!" Her voice is shrill, warbling in terror and pain. _Fight back! Get up, you stupid girl, help him, run, something..._

The krogan rears back, shoving it's heavy weapon into the drell's now bloody face with enough force to shatter his jaw, a moment before the gun fires, a blast of gore splashing in a gory star-burst over the delicate pale yellow of the ship's surface where the drell's head used to be. Tali whimpers in horror, tears overspilling her eyes as she gasps for breath and scoots back, still too hurt to walk or even think.

_Oh... Troyce... _The headless corpse slumps to the cold metal of the ramp, leaving a smear of blood and bits of scaled skin as it does so.

The krogan turns, smoke trailing from the now blood-smeared barrel of his gun, baleful red gaze fixed on the quarian. "Stop running, little bitch. I'll make it quick and painless. Try to run and I'll shove this between your whore quarian legs and see if I can blow your head off that way." His vile mouth splits in a grin, blackened teeth a zipper holding back vile threats.

Tali scrambles to her feet, triggering her omni-tool in white-hot rage. _He was so nice to me...keelah..._

Her fingers tap a hasty set of commands, and the krogan's automatic shotgun detects a purge command. Still glowing with heat, it attempts to discharge as if empty, but the swollen size of the heat sink is too wide for the shaft of the ejection port. The now shattered heatsink instead discharges all that heat into the integral mass accelerator in the barrel, even as the krogan lifts it to fire.

The barrel detonates in splinters of glowing hot metal, some driving directly into the mercenary's eyes, others shearing through his unarmored wrist, severing an artery. Howling with pain and half blind, the beast drops the gun, hands going to his now ruined face. Blood seeps between thick fingers as he screams.

Tali limps away , hurrying, biting her lip as she feels blood running down her leg inside her suit. A breach. A death sentence, if she can't find help, on a station she has never seen with no one to guide her and everyone to hate and mistrust her. And she remembers that krogan regenerate...before long he will be hounding her again, and if he catches her...

_Father, I don't want to die..._


	16. Chapter 10 : Garrus

**A/N:** _**GARRUS!**_

January 24th, 2183

The mercenaries ran, three sets of feet pounding frantically as they fled down the narrow access corridor, red utility lighting casting their features in warped, muted caricature. High, arched towers loomed all around them, casting fuzzy-edged shadows in menacing stripes over the uneven ground, the ever-present Widow-light from the nebula casting everything into a purple-tinted gloom.

A hollow boom sounded, and the batarian mercenary on the left spun around even as she was lifted from the ground, the back of her head simply gone, her face an ugly rose of exploded flesh as she tumbled to the ground. Her black armor blended well with the shadows, as a puddle of blood pooled around her now still form. The other batarian and the salarian ran on, not stopping.

The C-Sec cruiser flashed overhead, lights flaring in the semi-darkness of the upper ward alleyways. A flanged voice spoke from its integral speaker, cold and mocking. "Throw down your weapons and surrender immediately. This is your final warning. You cannot escape."

The batarian suddenly jinked to the left, trying to split from the Salarian. Garrus Vakarian sighed, the expression angling his blue facial markings into a new configuration, He then slid the door up on the air-car, hitting a control on the dash in front of him. A restraining harness lashed onto his armor, even as he hung his bulk from one side of the car, pulling the 3-foot long compressed form of his pride and joy, his beloved sniper rifle. As it unsnapped and lengthened, Garrus inhaled, the roaring notes of _Die For the Cause _ringing in his head. He put the scope to his eye, his ocular visor throwing a targeting ring over the back of the batarian thug's misshapen head. Micro-adjustments were automatically uploaded to the Model 19 anti-material rifle in Garrus's hands, and he pulled the trigger smoothly, calmly.

The gun cycled a spool of heavy wire into the firing chamber, shearing it into a shaped, wedge like flake weighing almost 3 grams, a microsecond before the mass accelerator field hurled it down the barrel, magnetic focus fields keeping it straight and true as it exited in a blue flash of flame-like dark energy. The dart entered the batarian's skull .4 nanoseconds later, striking with a force of 60 G's. The dart, with microscopic fractures ensuring it would shatter upon impact, exploded, turning into a cloud of 32 tumbling sharp-edged bits of metal that tore through the bone and brain of the target. The sudden kinetic energy coming to a sudden halt resulted in the remaining 700 newtons of force to flash into heat energy.

The batarian's head literally detonated, spattering scalding hot blood , bits of bone, and smears of pale gray matter all over the floor and walls. The body was hurled to the ground, bouncing in a ragged fashion , arms flopping bonelessly. The smoking muzzle of the weapon in Garrus's hands rotated smoothly, and a second shot was fired at the Salarian. This one caught the fleeing criminal in the lower back just as he was about to round a corner in the maze of buildings below, blowing a 5 inch hole almost completely through the narrow build of the alien before detonating as well. The blast sheared the salerian in half, a rush of organs and sizzling blood tumbling to the ground along with his upper body. The merc had enough time to feel himself slam hard against the floor , his pistol skittering away, before shock sent him into blackness.

Garrus's visor pinged softly. "Kill count: 7"

He shipped his sniper rifle, the harness holding his somewhat narrow waist perpendicular to the aircar digging into his side as he did so. His partner toggled a switch on the galaxy of haptic buttons on the dash of the car, and Garrus ducked back inside even as the harness unsnapped itself and retracted. The turian shut the door, sealing away the howling wind and metallic smell of the boundary atmosphere near the ward's upper boundary, and exhaled. "Clean kills."

The salarian driving the vehicle blinked large, black eyes rapidly in succession, his spare features showing no other reaction. "The executor will be displeased, of course." Slim hands angled the car down, the salarian's excellent reflexes avoiding an oncoming truck easily. "Warned you about the uncertainty of the evidence. Distressing to see sentient beings tortured, but...they could have just been hired hands, not involved parties."

Garrus snorted, his mandibles flaring in annoyance. "The only 'evidence' I needed was those two-bit thugs shooting at me when we caught them with the sprits-be-cursed slaves, Forlan. Not much you can say to excuse shooting at C-Sec agents. And who gives a shit if they were fucking involved or not, if you work for a monster who mutates people into _organ farms, _you get a bullet in the skull. End of story."

"Executor likely to not appreciate that kind of dismissive response, Garrus. Just saying. It's like you enjoy getting him pissed. And I get saddled with the paperwork."

Garrus gave a turian grin, shrugging his massive shoulders. "If you could shoot worth a damn, I'd be happy to do the paperwork. Besides...Pallin wouldn't appreciate anything I do, up to and including having Shai'ra ride his rod until she fainted."

The salarian gave a tiny little snort of amusement. The dark, leathery skin of his face glistened in the dim light, it's smooth planes broken only by the bisecting pink scar across his muzzle. His blue-and-black C-Sec armor gleamed, the marks of 10 years carefully and lovingly buffed out each night. The air-car slid across the wards, finally coming to a hovering stop on a broad platform boldly marked "CSEC AIRCAR ONLY". Haptic-illuminated hazard lines blared into the endless night as the air clomped down on it's rubberized landing pads, the eezo-core engine powering down with a whine of heat exchangers.

Garrus swung out, his long arms pushing the hinged door up and out of the way, massive frame unfolding from the cramped, gummy seats that always tried to conform to the shape of his ass. "Spirit-damned asari deathtraps", he muttered. He stretched, lanky legs tamping down, his spurs flexing inside the battle armor he wore almost all day long. Blinking away grit in his eyes , he pulled up a report interface in the visor over his left eye, triggering a comm call with his eye motions.

"Pallin here. That had better be you, Vakarian."

Garrus sighed, a long suffering sound that spoke of frustration. "Yes, sir. The mercenaries were at the drop site, just like the informer said. When we moved in, they bolted, and opened fire on us. Tratham's team secured the … cargo … and Forlan and I pursued."

The voice of the head of C-Sec was clipped and cold, but irritation seeped through the digitized transmission. "I told you repeatedly you were to follow and NOT engage. Now we have no chance to find out who the hell they were taking orders from. Your continued lack of discipline –"

Garrus snarled. "Don't start with me, you stone-polishing ass. You know full fucking well who they 'answered' to. All those slaves had the same marks on them as Saleon's last victims. He's shipping the poor bastards all over Citadel space now, thanks to your soft-taloned 'justice'. And the victims pay the price."

Pallin's voice had gone even colder. "You are a fool, Vakarien. I wasn't about to allow you to blow up a fucking transport full of eezo and spirts know what else directly over the wards to satisfy your stupid vigilante fantasies! And this! Your stupid act may save this handful of victims, but what about the rest of the people in the doctors hands, IF he is the culprit. We'll never know, you just blew away the only possible witnesses."

Garrus stalked towards the station doorway, talons flexing inside his gloves. "Listen to me, you barefaced son of a chieftain, we all know how you operate. Your precious paperwork is far more important than stopping the gods-damned criminal. The rules are more important than protecting the innocent from the vile thugs kicking them in the face."

Pallin roared over the commlink. "INNOCENTS? You are going to lecture ME about protecting the innocent? You've shot through fucking hostages to down the perp, put an entire FLOOR of innocent bystanders at risk to get at a gunman, and you have the unmitigated gall to even use that word? Get in my office in five minutes, Vakarian, or I'll have you issue plumbing citations for the rest of your career in the ass-end of Zakera. The volus section."

Garrus pushed his way inside the station, mandibles twitching in fury. He could feel his overheated blood racing , his stance had gone from calmly walking to each step being planted in preparation for a leap-and-spring. He felt his fringe tighten and made a concerted effort to calm down, cold blue eyes taking in everything around him.

C-Sec was a huge tube of connected offices, computer workrooms, forensic evidence rooms, and tactical armories, on top of a labyrinth of holding cells and storage rooms with enough weapons and armor to start a war. 200,000 strong, it boasted it's own armored division, it's own cruisers and frigates for interdiction and customs, it's own food preparation squad (with dextro and levo cuisine and even special eating areas for the sixty volus officers in C-Sec's Financial Crimes division).

It was an army. An army of impotent, castrated justice; an army of paper pushing clerks; an army of tired and jaded cops sitting around with their talons up their chutes, waiting for someone to fuck up so they could arrest some two-bit thug and claim they were stopping crime, while the truly guilty bought their way free and the clever used the system to hurt others.

Garrus loved it and hated it all at once. He strode ahead, past the huge central elevator that connected all levels together and linked to the council-access docks at level alpha, and headed down a set of stairs to his right. Blue-tinted haptic news-feeds scrolled reports, while the "sitrep" wall dominated the far side of the executive office area, 118 news-feeds from every known race blaring,monitored by a group of twitchy, obsessive compulsive salerians and memory-perfect drell.

Garrus slammed armored , heavy feet across the delicate tiles of the executor's entry suite, walking right past Pallin's secretary, a pretty young Palaven born girl called Trethia who he usually loved to flirt with. He pushed open the over-decorated doors of solid steel , stamped so melodramatically with C-Sec's seal. The words seemed to bite at him as he bisected the seal by pushing the doors out of his way.

_Duty to the People. Sacrifice for the Public Trust. Uphold the Law._

Pallin's office was large, but sparce. A window overlooked the Presidium commons, the view marred by an ugly earth plant of some kind having been installed right in the middle of the view. The walls were bare, except for two metallic bookshelves bearing the complete legal system code. A small eating or meeting area, off to one side. And in the center of the room, on a raised plinth a few inches tall, was Pallin's desk, it's top usually empty of anything but a haptic keyboard and a display panel.

Executor Pallin sat at said desk, looking even more unhappy than usual. The undoubted source of said unhappiness was the amber-glowing hologram that hovered , like a ghost, over the holopad in the corner, it's feet distorted by the certifying image of the continents of Palaven in a circle , nestled against the curve of the Council Tower. Garrus stopped dead in his tracks.

Councilor Sparatus was the only person Garrus knew that was more hidebound and rules oriented than Pallin. Except when it served him not to be, and then he was just a sarcastic asshat with a love of the human gesture of air quotes. _Soft , pedantic plate-licking son of a six-credit asari whore..._

"Executor, perhaps you did not hear me clearly, or perhaps you feel that your position has overtaxed your endurance and wish to retire to Palaven's shores. I require an investigator who can get the job done on this issue. It's a mess. Saren is implicated and Tevos is **all** up in my fringe demanding "action".

Pallin sighed, clearly attempting to retain his temper in the face of his boss. "I understand your position and how … difficult this must be. But I only have 19 detectives capable of operating at that level of oversight, and they are all either tasked to beyond capacity or have operational .. issues that do not lend themselves to this task."

The turian councilor's eyes narrowed. "There seems to be a lot of tork-shit on this line, Pallin. You should probably rephrase that or pick out a good estate on the coast."

Pallin growled, his voice harmonics coming unmeshed as he got angrier. "You want it in plain Unification Cant? Fine. 11 of the detectives are in deep cover and pulling them out would get them killed. 2 more aren't even on the spirits-be-raped Citadel. 4 are not even in Citadel SPACE, tracking that pack of Eclipse hauling tainted eezo in from the Terminus. That leaves me with a special ops sniper who specializes in assault and a propensity for killing above solving crimes, a financial crime detective who happen to be fucking VOLUS and thus useless in any fight not involving food and is tripolar to boot, and a Salarian who is about a week from retirement and who , by the way, had his life saved by Saren – twice – and who specialized in data analysis...for catching air-car illegal racers, not galactic heroes."

Pallin gave a shuddering exhale, his talons tapping a staccato beat on the desk. "I want to help. Spirits above, I _hate_ the entire concept of the Spectre program, and Saren is a rogue who makes my worse agent look like an Academy pledge model." Garrus could not restrain a smirk at that, but said nothing. "But the bottom line, Councilor, is that we don't have anyone available and won't for at least two weeks."

"Unacceptable. Flat out utterly unacceptable. How the hell did a person like you manage to crawl this far up the meritocracy continues to astound me, Pallin. Never mind. The sniper, put him on the case with the Salarian you spoke of. I don't give a pile of rantha dung if they find absolutely nothing, and I don't really expect this to be anything but more smoke up my chute from those stupid humans, but I cannot sit on my talons and expected to be acting impartially!"

Pallin shuddered, and then shook his head. "When it blows up in your face, Councilor, let it be known I think this is a bad idea. I will make the assignments. Pallin out."

Garrus folded his arms and leaned back on one leg, tilting his head a little. "Well, for what it's worth, I think he needs to listen to what you are saying. Not that you are ever right, of course, but ..."

"Shut up." Pallin massaged his forehead with his hands, talons trembling. "We'll talk about this catastrophe with the refugees, slaves, whatever, later. Have Forlan write it up. Sit down."

Garrus did so, his jaw set. Pallin looked even more pissed than usual, which was pretty impressive given that he already looked like his plates were going to fly right off his skull from blood pressure alone on an average day. "... alright, sir. I'm a pretty bad turian, I know, but I can see when shit is serious. What is the investigation?"

Pallin just looked at Garrus for a moment, then shook his head. His pale green eyes were tired, almost sunken, his plates dull and glossless. "A few days ago, we got a notification from the humans that they had uncovered a Prothean Beacon on some colony of theirs. A working beacon, mind you. They invited the Council to access it along with them, in return for some... political leverage."

"Damned humans. Not surprising, though. What kind of leverage?"

Pallin shrugged, his dark features almost crumbling as his mandibles clamped against his jaw. "Spirits, what didn't we give them? Concessions on tariffs, inspections. The chance for them to pick a candidate for Spectre status and have them evaluated, and a promise of a review of the Treaty of Fairaxen to allow them to add two more dreadnaughts to their fleet."

Garrus's blue eyes widened. His visor scrolled down a search window, coming up with news hits on "Spectre candidate human" and displayed only one hit. "Their so-called hero of Elysium,I presume? Egomaniacal human-centric jackass."

Pallin gave a weak laugh. "Still bitter about that busted arrest? Pity. And no, surprisingly enough, they did not pick him." Pallin shoved a datapad across his smooth obsidian desk. Garrus caught it, his plates arching in shock. "The Butcher of Torfan? Holy spirits be calm." He took in the image of the woman on the pad, a snapshot from Westerlund news of her breaking the back of an augmented elcor mercenary with nothing more than a biotic piledriver, her face set in a grimace of pure predatory hate. "I think I'm in love."

Pallin looked at him sharply, and then give an actual laugh of amusement. "Figures you would be, she's right up your tram line. Crazier than a hanar bodybuilder , but she is definitely effective. Don't see that kind of cold dedication in most of those monkeys, too busy selling themselves out for a few credits or trying to pretend they actually are anything more than jumped up batarians with two less eyes and better oral hygiene.. no matter."

Pallin paused, then continued. "This human apparently investigated the colony, with Nihlus Krylik as her supervisor, and they ran into an army of geth, apparently there for the Beacon as well."

Garrus smiled, his fangs gleaming faintly in the dim lighting of the office. "Geth? Really?"

Pallin nodded and Garrus paged through the rest of the pad. Images of a ruined, shattered spaceport. Burned out colony towers. Piles and piles of bodies, human and geth. Close ups of one of the geth, it's body torn open, white fluids splashed everywhere. Vague hazy shots of human military forces engaging silvery hordes of geth.

"...shit."

Pallin nodded. "Yeah. It gets worse. Krylik died down there, murdered with his own weapon according to the autopsy report. They found some burned human remains with marks on the upper arms. Defensive wounds, from turian talons. And a human cargo worker that survived claims to have seen Saren Arcturius leading the geth and planting a dirty bomb on the surface."

Garrus's head whirled. "Saren? Impossible."

Pallin shrugged. "Who knows? We pulled his comm records, nothing there worth noting, random chitchat with that matriarch he's coring, Benatria, Benzaria, whatever it fuck it is. According to him – and the port master and six witnesses – he's been on Noveria the past week, dealing with some kind of bullshit in his own investigation of human cloning."

Garrus nodded. "Hm. So the human must be wrong. Saren may be … aggressive, but he wouldn't do this. Working with geth? Maybe the humans did this to try to get him off the investigation he is working on?"

Pallin gave another shrug. "Three problems with this theory. First, the cargo worker had his head blown off this morning. Professional hit, drell mercenary...who six years ago did contract work for Saren. Not much of a link but the humans are up in arms. Not that the Council is going to accept the word of one drunken, admittedly traumatized dock worker, but still."

The Executor ticked a talon out, as if enumerating points. "Second, the autopsy of Nihlus showed the cause of death was definitely the LMG he took to the head – " Garrus winced, imagining "- but he also had been shot in the lung and kicked. From the pattern of facial plate breakage, we're 86% certain that whoever kicked him in the face was a turian. Two breakage impact points to either side of the bridge of his nose."

Another talon elevated, slowly. "And there's no ballistics on the pistol – the slug was explosive – the size and impact of the damage to the poor bastards armor is indicative of a M-903 Sunfire pistol."

Garrus nodded. The Sunfire was a fantastically rare gun, utilizing a fragmenting, explosive mass accelerated slug that was closer to a shotgun round than a pistol round. The ammo blocks tended to overheat when used rapidly, making it a very ugly , precision weapon used at short range to instantly incapacitate dangerous opponents. As such, it was ruinously expensive, with no less than nine major parts under fabrication rights management contracts tighter than the Consort's chute. Garrus was no Spectre fanboy, but even he had heard multiple stories of how Saren barely managed to save the day by use of his Sunfire pistol. "That looks bad, then".

Pallin nodded. "Gets worse. This morning, one of our informants calls us with a tip. The Shadow Broker apparently obtained some hot intel relating to the Eden Prime incident. It was supposed to be coming into dock on a drell ship, the HAV Sullen Cloud. Someone hacked C-Sec docks control and had the ship redirected to a private dock. By the time we got it all sorted and got units to the scene, the drell was dead, head blown off against his own ship. We found a dead krogan in the underway assembly … just luck, he was six feet from sailing right off into deep space. We ran his vitals and came back with a name. Raik Bole."

Garrus frowned. "That names sounds familiar."

Pallin smirked. "It should. Bole was the krogan arrested for illegal mod smuggling last year... mods he claimed were authorized by Saren. Saren bailed him out. We have one clear lead that looks very bad, a transfer of 85,000 credits to Bole a day before Bole is found dead near the corpse of a drell who had information on Eden Prime."

The Executor stands. "I will be .. blunt, Vakarian. I don't like you. You are a loose cannon, and you don't show the attention to the chain of command, to obedience, to duty as you should. You're an incredible shot, a skilled investigator, and a damned good cop – at times. But your disregard for what you see as useless red tape is going to end up with you getting an innocent person killed sooner or later, and you aren't going to like how that feels." He holds up a hand as Garrus opens his mouth to speak. "Just listen."

The Executor folds his arms behind his back. "This job is brutal. Every mistake, ever missed bust, every charge of brutality, racism, and favoritism ends up on my desk. My charge. Now I have the Council telling me point blank I have to assign detective to investigate someone who is explicitly and implicitly outside the law, with the damned crime having occurred light years away on a planet on the borders of our authority. . ."

Pallin sighed, shuddering. "If you find evidence proving Saren is behind this, the humans will go berserk. One of their most senior military figures has been accusing Saren of things for the past 15 years, and the very first time humanity actually plays ball with the Council and doesn't keep something to themselves in return for a chance to sit at the big table, a Turian destroys it. They'll say the entire Turian Hierarchy aided and abetted him. The council will split. Tevos has been looking for a way to reduce our influence for the past decade and this will play right into that bitch's blue hands."

"Worse, if he's guilty, our greatest hero is a traitor worse than any in history."

Garrus nodded. "And if he's not guilty?"

Pallin snorted. "That's even worse, believe it or not. It means we have a foe in alliance with the geth, who is attempting to frame Saren to distract humanity from the real culprit, whoever that might be. If we can't prove it is him , even if it is the truth, the humans might pull a Khar'shan and withdraw entirely from Council space. They don't even bother trying to enlist most of their race or use their resource towards full military production. If they did, it would be a fuck-all mess." Pallin turned back to face Garrus.

Garrus only looked at him for a long moment, then turned his head to one side. "Alright, Executor, I get what you are saying. If I do this, it has to be by the damned book. No exceptions."

Pallin only nodded, and Garrus huffed. "I.. I don't know if I have the skill-set for this. Chasing murdering thugs, yeah. Going after crazed doctors, drug-pushing piles of walking feces, and busting down krogan bullies, yeah. Taking down Saren?"

Pallin shrugged. "The humans will also be running an investigation, and in fact have already started. They are hindered by the fact that the commander of their ground team on Eden Prime, the Butcher of Torfan, was .. somehow incapacitated by the Prothean Beacon they found, which destroyed itself for some reason immediately after."

Garrus groaned. "It's like a bad science-fantasy holovid. A _cheesy _bad holovid at that. What next, you're going to tell me I need to work with some human cop to track down a threat to all life? We'll bond, maybe he'll be retiring soon, and his aged wisdom will bring my exuberance in place? With all due repsect, it sounds like a damned Blasto the Spectre novel."

Pallin gazed at Garrus a long second, then began to grin, an immensely pleased expression crossing his features. "Oh, no, Detective Vakarian. That would be an imposition. No, you will work with this Butcher of theirs whenever she recovers. You'll be assisting her. Let's see how you like it, eh?"

Garrus's jaw hung open and Pallin gave crossed the office to give the other turian a mocking, jovial pat. "Cheer up. I'm sure she will have no problem with you shooting everything and anything that her monkey brain can't grasp. Dismissed, Detective. And remind Forlan to get me that paperwork by first light, tomorrow."


	17. Chapter 11 : Chakwas and Joker

_**A/N: **Sorry for the minor delay. I had a chapter already written, two actually, but the chronology is off so I scrapped them. As far as some of my minor OC's, Dace and Kee will definitely make an appearance , a minor one, later on._

* * *

January 24, 2183

The voices wouldn't stop.

_Parker, where is Parker! Batarians are overrunning the FOP! _

The smell of burning flesh, the taste of ashes on the tongue...

_Where is our goddamned fire support! _

The harsh consonants of khar'shai , the gleaming needle teeth bared in a thousand hungry grins...

_Stupid monkey filth, did you think you could defy the Fist of Khar'Shan? Behold your death, at the hands of your betters!_

The feel of torn muscle, the warmth of leaking blood...

_What happened to my boys, Shepard? What...why didn't you protect my boys? I trusted you, despite everything...they were supposed to be SAFE with you..._

Ah, there is was, the empty agony that never stops... it feeds , it nourishes, red rage like a tide towering over a tiny , broken shape of a girl, all huge eyes and a dirty mop of black hair clinging to the head of a battered teddy bear...

_You must do … what we could not .. they are COMING …_

Shepard opened her eyes, the whole world a white blur shot through with streaks of green and black. Bursts of pain radiated down her arms, her stomach, her thighs. She took a deep , shuddering breath.

_So long, death. One of these days, we're gonna have a good chat about what a lousy date you are. Goddamn tease._

"I think she's waking up ,doctor." The voice was female, bleary and exhausted, and unfamiliar for a moment. Shepard began to set up, her motion checked by a hand on her shoulder, and she blinked hard.

"Easy, Commander. You took a lot of fire down there even before you decided to punch out a geth." The woman in front of Shepard was tall, with the lithe slender form of a born spacer. Intelligent, calm green eyes crinkled in kindness as she placed a pillow behind Shepard's back , but her mouth was in a grim line, giving her otherwise classically beautiful features a weary cast. Silvery-gray hair hung to either side, her uniform the white and green of Alliance Medical, but slashed with the four gray bars of a major."

Shepard shook her head to clear it, and winced as the motion sent off explosions in her skull. "Ow. I'm sorry, doc, a little .. woozy still. Fill me in? Guessing you are the ship's doctor. Never had time to do my medical in-brief." Shepard leaned back, taking in the room.

The med-bay was dimly lit, a flat metal desk at the far end lined with medical journals and a computer unit, it's haptic keyboard lining the shape of a few picture frames otherwise cast into darkness. A medi-gel dispenser hung by the door. Medical scanning beds lined the near wall, the ceiling crowded with lockers emblazoned with bizarre words – 'BioStat', 'RefStab' – and heavy locks. Near the door sat Williams, now in a standard marine BDU fatigue uniform, sleeves rolled up to reveal medigel bandages on her forearm. One eye and part of her face was occluded by more bandages, as well as thick ones wrapped around her torso. The woman's remaining eye was fixed on Shepard.

The doctor sighed. "Indeed. I'm Karin Chakwas, major, Alliance Medical. Ships Medical Officer. And you are suffering a long list of injuries, young lady. We'll ignore the stress fractures in the legs from whatever mission you were on before you got on the Normandy, but we have at least two gunshots, a chipped vertebrae, first and second degree burns over most of the right side of your face, a piece of metal in one thigh, 132 metal splinters and bits embedded in your body, 3rd degree plasma burns to the chest, and of course 7 broken bones in the hand, not to mention half your hand ripped off. And flash burns around your biotic amp from overuse."

Shepard locked gazes with the doctor, her eyes cold and clear, then glanced down at her body. Her right arm was set in a light cast, and she could now feel bandages around the side of her, her shoulder, stomach..."Noted, doctor. I presume I'll make a full recovery?"

Chakwas sighed. "You have another hour or two with that hand in the cell regenerator. And you're not going to be up for full duty for at least a week. But then again I doubt you'll listen to me when I tell you that you need to take it easy, you special forces types seem to think you're invincible."

Williams in the corner gave a small, wan chuckle. "Doc, she punched out a geth and then talked shit about it. That's pretty close to invincible."

Chakwas arched an eyebrow. "You should be resting as well, Chief Williams. You don't have much more sense than she does, walking around with a hole in your tummy."

Williams shrugged. "I. . . I just wanted to make sure the Commander was okay, ma'am."

Shepard sighed. "The last clear image I have is approaching the Beacon. Then..." She frowned, eyes lowering to the rough standard issue medical blanket.

The doors swished open, revealing the dark form of Captain Anderson. "Doctor? She's up?"

Chakwas nodded, stepping back. "Yes , she is. She is recovering normally, although I noticed a great deal of REM activity while she was out."

Shepard glanced as the doc. "And how long was I out for, anyway?"

Anderson sighed. "I need to speak to Shepard … privately. " Both Chakwas and Williams nodded, the latter getting to her feet somewhat unsteadily. "I'll be in the mess , then, sir." She hobbled out, followed by Chakwas, and the door shut behind them with a final thud.

The captain folded his arms over his barrel chest, sighing. "Well, I see you managed to tear yourself up again, Sara."

The response popped out of her mouth before she could even think. "It fucked with my crew."

Anderson gave a soft smile. "It probably regrets it now, soldier." The smile faded. "Shepard, I'm not going to lie to you. The situation...is bad. Over 30,000 people were killed on Eden Prime, including over 400 Alliance soldiers. The Beacon is...well, destroyed. After doing whatever it did to you, the jury-rigged power supply it was hooked to detonated. You've been out for over 14 hours. Nihlus is dead, and while you were unconscious, an assassin got into the hospital where that dockworker was recovering and blew his head clean off."

Shepard laid her head back against the pillow. "So now what? We go after this Saren guy?"

Anderson shook his head. "Saren is... a Spectre of the Council. Their most trusted agent. I've crossed paths with him several times. And he's not good news, trust me. He gets the job done regardless of the cost, but I think he enjoys the violence, the suffering, the thrill. He's not a friend of humanity, either, his brother was killed in the First Contact War. As a Spectre, everything he does is off the record , in most cases untraceable. He's been a Spectre for years, probably has contacts and resources all over Council and Terminus space, and he's one of the most adept warriors in known space. All in all, a terrifying foe."

Shepard frowned. "I'm not following, sir. We have the testimony of that dock worker. The Council strips him of his status, we find him and put a bullet in his plated chicken skull."

"Not that simple. The Council is in an uproar, and our ambassador, Udina, isn't helping. Rumors are flying everywhere. Some of the top brass in the Alliance are saying this whole event was staged, that we were set up to fail, that Saren was working for the Council and stole the Beacon data from us, using some kind of "hack" to control the geth. Others say he's gone rogue, still others say humanity is trying to frame him to stop him investigating human research companies on Novaria."

Anderson paced. "But I know Saren. I know his politics. His … hate. If he is doing this, it's to attack humanity. To annihilate us. He's never forgiven the loss of his brother and …" The captain folded his hands together. "Taken all together, it looks..bad. We lost the Beacon, the Spectre we had supporting you is dead, our only actual witness to what went down is dead, the only suspect is immune to being prosecuted or even questioned...and to top it all off, the Council wants a report. They're pretty much blaming everything on you."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "The council can kill my ass, sir. I'm an Alliance Marine, I could care less what they say."

Anderson nodded, "Unfortunately , the order – from top Alliance brass – is for us to go before them and testify. To try to salvage something from this mess. There isn't much chance they'll make you a Spectre now...unless you learned something from the Beacon."

Shepard shook her head again. "No sir. It was...painful and chaotic. Images and words that implicated a much higher level of technology. Lots of synthetics...lots of ships like that one we saw on Eden Prime. Dozens of them. I saw machines dissolving people. Killing them. Butchering them." She trailed off, shuddering, feeling herself shrink with the sheer pain and agony of the memories. She paused. "I .. I think it was a warning. Of what , I don't know.

Anderson's eyes narrowed. "We have to tell this council this."

Shepard looked up, and gave a bitter little laugh. "Tell them what? That the blood-thirsty human nutjob they got foisted onto them as a Spectre candidate had a bad dream? Sir, they'll laugh us out of the room. I can't … ignore what I've seen, not saying that. Something is coming, and it's .. bad. But we seriously can't expect them to listen to us without real, solid proof."

Anderson leaned one muscled shoulder against a locker and frowned. "Sara, I've known you a long time, ever since this scary slip of a street thug was jumped by gang-bangers as she helped a little girl. I caught two slugs for that. And when the criminals you had run with your whole life tried to take advantage of you to hurt me, your reaction was to destroy them utterly."

He gave a ghost of a smile. "I won't pretend I understand you, that I understand the pain you go through every day. I won't lie and say that I grasp how you do what you do, or why you can manage to tear apart entire armies and make krogan piss themselves in fear but can't even manage to talk to the people who try to break through to reach you." Shepard looks down, frowning, but Anderson continues.

"But in the 8 years I've known you, I've only seen you cry twice. Once, when I saved your life." A hand reaches out, gently, the fingers tracing Shepard's cheek to wipe away a tear. "And now, when you spoke about whatever it is you saw in the vision. That means it's important , damn what anyone else things. You aren't crazy."

"I..."

Anderson shook his head. "And I know one more thing. I don't give a damn what the Council , Alliance brass, or anyone else says. You didn't fail your mission in my eyes. You did good, child. Anyone else would have just died down there. Against an army of geth, you not only saved half a million people from a grisly death, but recovered the Beacon and saved the remains of the 212 and those scientists. So if they call you a nutjob, I'll be right there next to you, ready to take the hit and call them out on it."

Shepard gave a little exhalation. "I...sorry. I just don't know how to … process all of this. Things are supposed to make sense. Go here, flash the biotics, kill the bad guy. Get sent into suicide mission, turn it around, make the final run myself to take out the leaders. Write the letters about the people that got killed because some REMF on Arcturus can't be bothered to read the intel, or because some general ground-side thinks women should be barefoot and pregnant and won't give me the resources to get the job done the right way. I can do that."

"I don't want to … feel. I just .. want to get the job done."

She looked up. "I don't know how to deal with .. _this_. Go in front of the Council and convince them of something I don't even know if I believe? Anderson, I can't even figure out how to talk to other humans half the time." Her good hand clenches into a fist on the blanket. "I'm tired. I'm tired of being sent off to die and only managing to get everyone around me killed. I'm tired of wading through emotions and trying to pretend they aren't there. I'm tired of waking up every night wanting to empty out my skull. I'm tired of having the only peace in my life when I'm on the battlefield, killing something. I've been told to be the perfect soldier, the perfect killing machine. Every op, ever training class, every goddamned qualifica-"

She breaks off as Anderson places a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. "Sara, am I your friend?"

_That goddamned word again. That goddamned question again._

"I..."

The eyes that bore into hers are such a soft, open shade of brown. They are the only eyes she's known that don't judge, that have never judged, that have always seen something in her that even she can't, even when she's gone too far in hate and rage and fear. "I don't even know how to have a friend, David. But you are all I have."

Anderson nods. "Then if you won't trust yourself, trust me. You can do this. You have to learn to live, now, child. You've punished yourself enough. It was never you who was at fault. It's been the people pushing you. Using you. Now you have to take one more step, Sara. Trust that you can be more. You've gone from being used, to making your own path. From being a criminal who hurts people, to being a hero to humanity who protects them. Now you have to be more."

"What if I **fail!**"

Anderson lets her shoulder go, standing to his full height. His uniform is perfect in the dim light, his stance speaking of nothing but confidence. It almost _hurts_. "Sara, you've never failed at anything you put your will and mind to in your entire life. You aren't about to start now."

Anderson turned away. "We're still a ways out from the Citadel. Finish up with Chakwas and have her get you ready to move out when we dock. I have to prepare a report to Admiral Hackett."

"Yes, sir."

The door opens, and Anderson steps out, replaced by Chakwas, who immediately walks over and begins consulting the haptic interface at the foot of the bed. "Lieutenant Alenko informed me that you'll have to be up and around soon. You really do need a week of recuperative time, Commander."

Shepard leans back against the pillow. Her mind is still whirling. "I heal fast, doctor."

Chakwas scowls. "No you don't. You just push yourself on, before you're healed, as if you don't matter. Your body is a patch work of badly healed injuries that should have killed you." She walks around the bed, her hands deft as she slips open the cast around Shepard's shattered hand, and places the boxy form of the cellular regenerator over it. "And your psych profile and medical records …."

Shepard sighed. "I have this conversation with every medical officer I deal with. No, I am not psychotic. No, I do not have anger management issues. No, I -"

"Commander. I was not going to state any of that. I'm just sorry you had to .. endure...what you've had to go through."

Shepard snorted. "You'd be the first." She flexes her hand inside the regenerator, feeling pain ripple through it, then turns to look at Chakwas, noting the stricken look on her face. "What?"

For her part, Dr. Chakwas was torn between fury and wanting to cry. "Are you serious? That all this time, your doctors have been dismissive of your past and what you've went through?"

Shepard shrugs, wincing as muscles pull in her back. "Doc, most of my ground commands get pretty torn up in the course of repeated anti-pirate ops. The doctors end up having to patch together the people that pay the price for me getting the job done. Whoever works with me always ends up judging me on the fact that I used to be a gang-banging, drug slinging murderer. The first Alliance docs, the ones in boot camp and with the Marine Penal Legions, saw me as a liability. They were looking for any reason to category 6 me."

Chakwas sighed, being dismissed for mental issues when you were in a Penal Legion was grounds for an immediate bullet in the head. "They were supposed to be helping you."

Shepard's face was calm, emotionless, as if discussing someone else. "No, they were supposed to be helping people who needed help. You lose the right to that when you turn into a monster."

Chakwas gave a great snort, brushing hair out of her eyes, fixing her gaze on the woman in front of her. "I have never heard such a … hurtful, dismissive thing. A woman, traumatized , betrayed by her own parents, forced to survive in an environment where any weakness means death or worse, and when you show you aren't just a monster, they treat you as one anyway? Horrific. Unethical. Inexcusable."

Shepard tilted her head. "Doc, you are reading the same reports everyone else is? Flipped my shit, shot up 119 people, blah blah blah? That's what most people call crazy."

Chakwas crosses the room to pick up a datapad, and flicks it on, paging through something. "Ah, yes. I quote: '_Despite outstanding warrants and her own injuries, subject personally got Lieutenant Anderson to a local hospital for his injuries. In doing so, she was identified by a local police officer as being a gang member. A partial police report implies that police officers attempted to get a statement from Anderson implicating subject in criminal activity. Anderson declined to do so. Hospital monitoring systems recorded a brief conversation between Anderson and Shepard, in which she inquires why he didn't sell her out and he replies that if she had been evil she wouldn't not have gotten shot saving his life, and that she deserves another chance.'" _Chakwas put down the pad, and folded her arms. "Yes, very monstrous. You destroyed a sick infestation of evil men who had twisted you into a weapon for their use. But you didn't do that in the end. You turned on the evil. And since then you have done nothing but try to follow orders and get the job done."

Chakwas came back over to Shepard, gently undoing the bandage on her head, and clucked critically. "No noticeable scarring, good. Shepard, I know you only through the piles of documents I get on crew members and from what Anderson has told me. But I can see with my own eyes you are no monster. A monster would have let Chief Williams and Lieutenant Alenko distract that Geth Prime so they could drop it, not attract it's attention and dive through a plasma blast to punch it to death. "

She pauses, fussing with the bandage on her shoulder, frowning a bit, her voice even and calm and .. kind. "A monster would not put themselves in harms way again and again every time they had to sacrifice soldiers, as if hoping to die alongside the men and women you had to let die to get the job done. I'm not as hard as you. I don't think I could do what you did. That doesn't mean it makes you evil, or wrong, or worth anything but as much consideration and care, if not more, than any other soldier in this ship."

Chakwas turned away, her cultured voice filled with disgust. "The fact that you have not had that treatment from other doctors is the only sickening thing about this. And anyone who make an oath to do no harm and then ignores your pain .. those are the only monsters I see here."

Shepard paused. "Just before I transferred here, there was one psychologist who . . . was different. Told me that I had to let things go." She shook her head. "I .. I don't know what is wrong with me. Maybe it's that Beacon. I need to focus on the mission."

Chakwas gave a small, worried smile. "Commander. You aren't used to anyone being concerned for your well being? Well I am. You are part of this ship's crew now, and that means I hold myself responsible for your health. Mental and physical. If Captain Anderson, a man I respect immensely, says you are good people, then who am I to question him?"

Shepard looks away. Chakwas gives a little sigh, and pulls down the blanket, examining the bandaging around Shepard's thigh. "Everything except the hand is healing well, Commander. While usually I'd want you to stay in bed another 24 hours, the regenerator is done with the thigh wound, and you need to walk it to prevent muscle scarring that could limit motion. You're not cleared for any sort of combat, but I think you could finish resting in your own stateroom."

Shepard nods. "What about my hand?"

Chakwas smiled. "Well, you have at least another hour on that. Perhaps you could tell me about your military history? I need it for your medical in-brief anyway. And these documents are full of redactions."

* * *

Two hours later, Shepard limped towards the main battery, dressed in her blues. Her head was still spinning, from the aftereffects of the Beacon, battle medicine, and some of the strangest conversation she'd ever had. Chakwas was so infuriatingly stubborn. Never judging. Never assuming. _As if I was some kind of real person instead of a cardboard cutout that shot things. _

She was pacing down the length of the crew deck, feeling the stress in her injured leg begin to smooth out. She never had a chance to do a real tour of the ship when she got on , the rush to Eden Prime all consuming, and as a result she had no idea where things were. But she loved weapon systems, and before she went and tried to interact with any of the crew, she needed a moment to gather herself mentally.

The battery was deserted, racks of Spearfish missiles neatly stacked in auto-loading racks, the launchers themselves retracted into the hull. Bigger than the ground assault missiles from mobile artillery trucks, the Spearfish missiles were almost 18 feet long, and tipped with a fleck of antimatter suspended in a charge neutral vacuum state supported by mass effect fields. Ruinously expensive, they gave the Normandy the punch of a much larger ship without a heavy power draw.

As she walked forward, she could hear voices, sounding from above her. _Whoever is on the bridge, I suppose. _

The first voice was clearly that of Lieutenant Alenko, his quiet tones muffled. "I'm just saying that she isn't quite what I expected, Joker. I figured that she would be less cold."

The other voice she recognized vaguely as that of the pilot. She remembered him being called "Joker" by Anderson , apparently it was a nickname of some kind. His voice sounded bitter. "Geez, Alenko, you really don't get it , do you? She's not cold. She's just trying to keep everything in."

Alenko's voice was almost mocking. "And when did you become an expert on icy killing machines, Joker? Trust me. I've seen her in person, remember? She went through those geth like they were irritants, and she wasn't even breathing hard until the very end. She snapped at Williams for being upset at seeing her own damned unit butchered and said she never had a problem with it because she never had friends."

Joker said nothing for a moment, then almost snarled. "Funny thing, LT. People don't understand pain. See, I live with pain every day. Everyone thinks, "oh, he had bad bones, he has to be careful." Being careful doesn't help. Everytime I move, the bones break a little. Walking to get a cup of joe and go to the head? Sledgehammers up and down the legs, every step. Having to slide out of my rack in the morning? Feels like someone is kicking me in the spine and hips. I can't even fucking walk down to the mess decks to eat without pain so bad I want to cry sometimes."

Alenko is quiet, and then speaks. "I.. didn't know.."

"Shut up, Kaiden. Not my point. I don't need people's pity. I am sitting here because I busted my ass in flight school. I stayed in the sims until I couldn't keep myself awake anymore with coffee and cigarettes. I pushed myself to study 20 hours a day. I aced _every_ test, I pushed _every_ limit, and I didn't give myself time to heal. It hurt all the time, and the more pain I was in, the more I pushed."

His voice softens. "I thought...if I did good enough, if I was the best, maybe it would make the pain mean something. Maybe people would be impressed enough to see through the awkward kid with the broken bones, do more than feel sorry for me and avoid me at the bars. But of course, it did nothing but alienate everyone."

"That's not true, Joker. At least I hope not, I've .. I mean, hell, we've gone drinking together."

Joker gave a laugh. "That was because you were all over that asari girl and needed a wingman. But no, LT, you are right. Some people here have done that. Not many. And not what I'm saying. Spending all these years on the sidelines of life, watching everyone else go through the motions, the loving, the living, the little things I can't have, you get really good at measuring people, at seeing things other people miss."

Joker's voice goes quiet. "And our new Commander is the same was I was. In pain. Pushing to be the best to make it go away, but drawing on the pain to push herself further. Unable to reach out to anyone because if someone feels sorry for you then you don't know what to do. They called me Joker in flight school because I was so serious, I pushed everyone away. I didn't have a single friend until 5 years after that."

Kaiden made a thoughtful sound. "I.. hadn't thought of it like that."

Joker's voice is bitter. "Most people don't. Easier to avoid and pity the kid with busted bones. Easier to avoid and fear the crazy lady with a bad history. Except it's not. It's cruel, and it's hateful, and it makes you hate yourself more, blame yourself more, for shit that isn't even yours to claim. And then you go all emo and people move on without you."

Kaiden laughed. "Can't see you as ever being... emo, Joker. Maybe tossing out irreverent comments on William's ass to my private commlink."

Joker made a scoffing sound. "Well yeah. I mean, I'm crippled, not dead. And while the Commander is also a beautiful woman, the chances of me saying anything about her ass ending with me having even more broken bones is far too high for me to risk saying anything over the commlink."

Kaiden laughed. "True. I guess I just...Hell, I don't know , Joker. I thought I was dead. I thought for sure she'd let us distract that Geth Prime and take it out from behind. Dirth, Mindoir, Torfan, isn't that what she's known for? Big casualties, victory at any price?"

Joker said nothing. Kaiden's voice rambled on. "But she didn't. She flung herself into over 70 geth, and then nearly killed herself saving us. Maybe you're right and I'm being unfair. I don't know. But she still seems cold."

Joker finally spoke again. "You get that way when you can't figure out how to say things. Now, I do it with humor and sarcasm, but … I just... I feel like I know where she is coming from. Our pain isn't the same. I can't do all the incredible things she can do, or say that my background is as bad as hers. "Joker pauses, then his voice goes sarcastic. "Then again, she can't make the Normandy do a 720 in less than 10 km at top mark and still manage to hit a drift of under 1500k from across the galaxy."

Alenko laughed. "So modest, Joker."

Shepard looked hard at the missiles, old voices playing in her head. Then she thought of Anderson.

"_Shepard, the only person who can give you absolution is you. But don't imagine you're in this alone. You just have to reach out."_

* * *

Joker was in the cockpit solo 10 minutes later, when irregular footsteps sounded behind him. He half turned, catching the sight of Commander Shepard now standing behind him."Commander. All systems nominal. We're currently one hour fifty two minutes from the Citadel."

"Acknowledged ,flight lieutenant." Her voice was icy and flat. He waited for her to turn away, but instead she slowly, carefully lowered herself into one of the seats next to him, manning the gunnery station. "I need to check some power fluctuations I noticed while reviewing the battery."

"Of course, ma'am."

There was a few seconds of silence. Shepard paged through menus. Her motions were not fast, but she didn't have to go back and forth. She clearly knew what she was doing, but it was as if it was memorized, not learned. "If you don't mind me asking, ma'am...I thought you were a ground-side marine."

She nodded. "I was. Before I was assigned here, though, a few years back, I went ahead and did the qual package for executive officer, nav, engineer and general systems."

"Huh. What ship did you serve on, then?"

Shepard glanced over to him, face neutral, and then back to the panel. "None, Flight Lieutenant. I studied the material and took all the courses up to level 4 and 5." She identified a system and brought it up with a minimal movement of her hand over the haptic interface, examining something.

"But those classes are designed for officers who've had two years of watch standing experience to prepare!" Joker couldn't even imagine passing them without having the actual knowledge...

Shepard gave a cold smile. "As usual, people don't understand how things can work out if you just push yourself hard enough. "

Joker was silent for a moment. "Yes ma'am." He fell silent. The last thing he wanted to do was pop off in front of the commander. He might berate Alenko for dismissing her , and he knew his ego about his piloting skills was why he often bragged on himself, but up close she was... terrifying. Beautiful, icy, calm, and probably saw him as a ship function rather than a person.

Shepard finished her scan and shut down the link. But she didn't move from her seat. After several minutes of increasingly worrying silence, Joker glanced over at her, watching her stare outside into the onrushing stars. "Commander?"

She didn't look his way, but spoke. Her voice had an odd note in it, almost tentative. "Ships are often full of little quirks. Engines that don't balance right. Panels that don't operate correctly. A medigel dispenser that squirts it in your face. Missile links that never got adjusted from the factory." A pause.

"Or the fact that due to acoustics and venting, someone in the forward battery can hear every word of a conversation between two lieutenant's about their commander's ass."

Joker felt as if the entire universe constricted around his heart. He didn't dare glance over, just kept his now trembling hands on the haptic controls. "M..ma'am?" His throat felt as if it was about an inch wide.

Shepard didn't say anything for a long time, maybe five seconds. "I don't have any friends , Mr. Moreau. While I'm not sure I know how to make any, there is a certain .. comfort in knowing that I am at least not … entirely misunderstood by all people."

Joker could not believe his ears. Carefully exhaling, he glanced over to where Shepard was sitting. Her eyes were fixed on some point ahead in space.

_She is going to kill me. I can see the head line now. 'Pilot with Vroliks Syndrome broken into bits by enraged Commander Shepard for being nice.' _

He reached his free hand out anyway, to place it over right hand, gently. "Ma'am, you aren't alone in... uh, being alone. I can't understand what you've gone through,and anyone who does is a lying asshat ... but I know _more_ than enough about living in pain every second of every day. If I can get past that so can anyone."

Shepard stared at the pilots lightly boned, elegant hand on top of hers for a long moment, before Joker lost his nerve and withdrew it. She felt as if pieces of her mind were spinning around in drunken patterns.

"Feeling...hurts, Fl... Joker." She stood, abruptly , and began to walk out.

Joker couldn't let that go. "So does everything else, ma'am. But at least feeling can do something beside hurt."

Shepard paused, and said nothing for long seconds, her hand braced on the doorway to support her weight. Finally she straightened. "Flight Lieutenant, if you comment on my ass to any member of my ground team I will personally put both your femurs into your lungs."

She exhaled, as Joker internally cursed himself for saying anything. "As long as you don't do that, Joker, I would.. .appreciate any additional insight you have to give. I'll be heading to Engineering if the Captain needs me."

And then she was gone. He knew she was grimacing, forcing herself to walk quietly and normally so she would never look weak. He could understand that.

His face split in a grin after a moment of reflection. She had called him Joker.


	18. Chapter 12 : Doran

**A/N: **_Mess of a chapter to write. Never understood how the hell Bioware expected me to believe a wounded quarian girl would survive for a couple of DAYS on the incredibly hostile Citadel with Saren's thugs looking out for her and no one inclined to help. I actually almost distrusted her evidence because it was so .. convenient. _

January 24, 2183

Tali sat in the huge, open area of the Upper Wards, and realized she was completely lost.

The area was like nothing she had ever seen on the Migrant Fleet or the handful of worlds she had visited. Giant arcs of gleaming metal held up huge , jutting shelves of offices, stores, cafes, and businesses. Aircars ran riot overhead, complex patterns twining in the shallow airzone between the ground and the envelope inclosing the Upper Wards.

The buildings were all towering, angular shapes, slashed with myriad lights of .. people doing things. What they did was all rather hazy to Tali. She had wandered the upper wards for half a day now, her leg increasingly sore and tender. Biting her lip behind her mask,she rubbed her hip absently, feeling the heavy bruising from when she had fallen.

She had patched the suit breach, but without a clean area to examine the wound to her leg she was just praying any infection wouldn't be too bad. She had doused herself with immuno-boosters, but her supplies were almost empty, and she had no cash to buy even basic medical care.

_Troyce..._

The flash of the gun and the ugly, sickening image of the kindly old drell's head coming apart wouldn't get out of her mind. She remember the little stars on his curious shoes – spurs, he called them – jangling in discord as he crashed to the ground. The vile bared teeth of the monster who had brutally murdered him.

Troyce had been right about the Citadel people and how they would act, though. Most completely ignored her, or crossed the narrow walkpaths to avoid her, as if she smelled. Turians gave her hard-eyed glares, asari merely looked over the top of her head, and salarians rudely brushed by, as if she wasn't even there.

Twice she had tried approaching someone for directions only to be told to get lost. Now her leg hurt fiercely, and she was feeling light headed, depressed, and wrung out from crying. She didn't think the krogan would shoot her dead in the middle of a crowd, but she had to leave this area sooner or later, and the chances of him surprising her increased every moment.

_Two tubes of paste left, half a liter of filtered water, and only a dozen air filters left. No antibiotics, and I dropped my shotgun running away. I have a pistol, 19 credits, a boot knife, 3 OSD's , a data disk full of geth audio I can't even understand, two books, a picture of my mother and father, another reik, and a silly model of a quarian ship. What do I do?_

Lost in thought, she barely noticed the C-Sec officer walking over to her. "Move along, quarian. We've had two complaints of vagrancy and loitering."

"W-what? I was j-just sitting here thinking,I'm l-lost.."

The C-sec agent was a turian, his armor harsh angles in blue and black trim gleaming with polish. His hands held a heavy rifle, it's ammo indicator glowing a sullen red. His face was a dark , cold gray, slashed with heavy whit marks around his eyes. "Sure you are. Waiting for someone to lift their credit chit from?" He jerks his chin, where two more C-Sec officers are dragging another quarian away, this one a male with the pale red reik of House Shava. The young man is limp, his faceplate showing a single, long crack down one side.

The turian sneered, mandibles dipping in scorn. "We found three stolen chits and a security card registered to another thieving quarian. But I'm an open minded sort. Get the hell out of the Upper Wards before I have you arrested."

Tali stood uncertainly, limping. "I was.. told to look for someone named . Fist?"

The C-sec agents eyes narrowed instantly, and he tensed. "So you are a criminal. Fist is really branching out if he's using quarians as drug mules. Well, that's all I needed to hear, you're going to have to come with me."

"W..what? I don't even know Fist, I was just t-told by my friend to meet hi-" She nearly screamed as the turian roughly pushed her to her knees, the agony in her wounded leg flaring. "Sure, and I'm Blasto the Spectre, too. God you people are so .. "

A huge, blocky shadow towered over both the quarian girl and the C-sec officer. Tali gasped at the sight of the krogan in front of her. This one was even more gigantic than the one that had been chasing her, angled and heavy red armor dented and blasted with years of battle. A sallow face, crossed with ugly scars, boasted little more than angry red eyes and a snarling grim line of a mouth, while the krogan's fire red crest was even more scarred. The most gigantic shotgun Tali had ever seen in her life was clipped to his back, nearly half as long as he was, with a barrel she could have cleanly put her fist into.

"...fuck, Wrex. What do you want now?"

Wrex gestured. "Little quarian bitch is one of Fist's new hires. She's already paid for and we already paid off Donatix, I ain't paying twice. She got clever, got away from the workers and old Bintho said she was running up this way." With a casual gesture, Wrex flicked a thousand credit chit to the C-sec cop, who deftly caught it with two talons and tucked it in his armor in one smooth, well-practiced motion.

The C-sec officer looked around. "Tell Fist to keep his shit clean, goddamn it." He shoved Tali towards Wrex, who caught her by the waist in one giant hand. "And get her the fuck out of here, you know anyone who does quarians isn't in the Upper Wards." The turian turned away with an irritated grunt.

"Don't. Say. A. Word. Just move and you'll get through this alive, girl." Wrex's voice was low, rough, and completely terrifying. Tali was half paralyzed with pain and fear, her heart beating so fast she thought it would explode. He shifted his massive grip from her waist to her shoulder and guided her – gently, which was odd – over to a somewhat darkened alleyway. Turning the corner, he took Tali down several sets of broad, flat stairs.

After four flights, the stairs opened out onto an underground, empty plaza, abandoned buildings giving way grudgingly to smears of light and motion off in the distance. He gestured to the shattered side of a building up against the walls of the ward, and Tali obeyed, limping more after all the stairs. Wrex glanced in both directions for long seconds before kneeling down in front of the tiny quarian.

"Are you Tali'Zorah?"

Tali started. "Y-yes.."

Wrex nodded. "Good. The Broker sent me, originally to meet Troyce. I just came up from C-sec, he's dead. I need to know what happened."

Tali squeezed her eyes shut, half in relief and have in agony of memory. "He...he got me here, from Caleston. On his ship. W-we were told to land in a docking bay...and when we got out two k-krogan attacked us. He killed one. .. I think...but the other shot me then shot him. He told me to run...to find Fist in someplace called the Lower Wards."

Wrex cursed. "This krogan – describe him. Black head crest, where mine is red? Grey armor? Dark skin?"

Tali nodded, hesitantly. "Y-yes...T-troyce asked if they were from the Broker and he laughed."

Wrex grunted. "He's a stupid thug. … " He lifted his head, and sniffed, before whirling around and standing, his hand already going to his gun-

And was thrown back with a roar of pain, smoke coming from his chest, as a shotgun boomed. The huge krogan collapsed, blood leaking from his mouth. Tali whirled, her pistol in her hands.

The krogan who had shot Troyce stood there, his face unscathed, a new looking shotgun smoking in his massive hands, a human cigar in his teeth. "Idiot old fool, did the smell of the human leaf throw you?" Ignoring Tali, he fired another shot, this time at Wrex's knee, which erupted in red-orange blood. "I'll deal with you in a minute, doddering wreck.." The barrel lifted towards Tali –

Who, with a grimace, rolled aside, and fired her pistol three times in rapid succession. The shots did nothing to the heavy armor the krogan mercenary wore, and he gave a belly laugh. "You really are a stupid little -"

With a tap of her omni-tool, Tali generated an over-current, and grounded it in the bits of metal she had shot into the krogan's armor. There was a great, arcing blast of white energy, and the krogan fell shrieking to the ground. Tali pounced, screaming in hate, sweeping up her boot knife and cramming it down with all her strength into the krogan's eye.

The blade punched through with an ugly squelch, and the krogan roared, so loud Tali's ears rung. With a snarl it slammed it's heavy fist into her stomach, literally folding her in half over his massive arm. He flung her back, to land in a heap on the ground, and plucked her blade from his eye. "Bitch, you've got a quad , I'll give you that, but now I'm really going to hurt you before I kill. You should have finished me back at the ship, krogan regenerate."

"Regenerate this, pup". Wrex's voice was pained gravel on steel as he pulled the trigger of his shotgun, point blank at the other krogan's head. The explosion that slammed through the air was muted due to the gore flung in a liquified cone that sprayed all over the graffiti covered walls. The headless merc slumped to his knees, arms twitching as his secondary nervous system tried to figure out what had happened. Wrex nudged the soon-to-die body over with his foot, viciously putting two more shots into the chest area, and then, limping, moved to check on Tali.

Tali managed to roll over and took in the ruin of the krogan. "You...you killed him, even after he shot you?"

Wrex shrugged. "I'm embarrassed he even got the drop on me. You look hurt."

Tali winced, trying to put on a brave front. Her father told her the krogan respect strength and will over anything else, and she exhaled to even her voice before speaking. "I.. got shot in the leg, and bruises on the hip from falling. My suit is punctured...and I .. don't have any money."

Tali trailed off hopelessly. She doubted a krogan would bother with charity.

Wrex flexed his massive physique, feeling the knitting sensation around his knee grow tight and hard with pain. _I could just put a bullet in her skull and take the info directly to Fist...and see if he tries and crosses me. Easy, simple. _

The krogan gave a grim little grin as he put away his weapons, remembering how the tiny quarian girl stabbed the other krogan right in the eye. "Typical quarians, always broke. C'mon, let's get to a doctor before you start crying or bleed out from a broken toe nail or something."

The krogan stomped away, Tali scurrying to follow. "B-but I don't have any credits!"

Wrex gave her a sidelong look. "If what you're offering the Broker is any good, you'll be able to pay me back for this. And if you don't, I'll kick your spine out of that suit. Now, hush up and follow, the Lower Wards aren't the safest place for a kid."

For almost 10 minutes, Tali limped silently after Wrex. In comparison to the gleaming metal and light of the wards above ground, the lower wards were...grim. Trash and rust were everywhere, so were homeless people and the occasional wandering pack of C-Sec agents, all hard eyes and hands on their guns. They gave Wrex unfriendly looks, which he just gave great , roaring laughs at, but every time he increased the pace a bit. Clearing another set of stairs, Wrex spat as yet another C-Sec agent gave him a dirty look and turned away."Spineless pyjaks..." he muttered at last." Then he came to a stop.

"Quarian."

Tali stiffened. The pain of her leg had only increased with his punishing pace, and she was now shaking slightly, a cold sweat covering her body. Her vision was blurry, and she was hungry and tired and wanted to just curl up somewhere safe and clean and have Auntie Raan stroke her back and make tuchariel tea. "My NAME is Tali, krogan!" Her silvery eyes narrowed to dagger throwing slits for a few seconds before she realized she was shouting at a giant , angry lizard with far too many teeth, in armor that weighed more than her entire family and who was armed with a gun that looked like it had been looted from a spaceship's main battery.

But Wrex roared with laughter. "Ah, you have a quad on you, little girl. Tali it is. I'm about to drop you off at a clinic in the upper wards." He gestures to a stairway, gleaming clean steel and brightly light, with a haptic sign over it reading "Upper Wards Access: South Bechjet Ward"

The krogan frowned, spoke, his voice low and careful."The doctor in there is called Michele. Human female, too touchy feely for my taste, but she specializes in patching up volus and quarians and the like, so she can help you. Tell her **Wrex** sent you, and that this makes us even. When she gets done patching you up, go to Chora's Den. She'll tell you how to get there. Ask for a man named Fist, and you'll get directions on where to meet an agent of the Broker."

Tali frowned. "What about the Broker himself?"

Wrex shook his head. "NO ONE has seen the broker directly for over 50 years except one man, a turian, and that's who you're going to meet. They call him the Voice of the Broker, and it's as close as you can get to meeting the Broker himself. Hell, I've been shooting up shit for the Broker for 250 years and I've only meet the various Voices 4 or 5 times. Be glad you're getting this close." He paused. "If your info is good , the guy you meet will pay you off. Once that's done, come find me. If I'm lucky I'll be in Flux, if not, I'll be a guest of C-Sec. Either way, if your intel is pretty good, we can get you out of here. And I can get paid, at last."

Tali nods, as they slowly take the steps. "I.. I know you are being paid, to help, but...thanks. I'm sorry you got shot."

Wrex snorted. "As the idiot said, we regenerate. An hour from now and I won't feel a thing. And killing that fool was it's own payment. Only two kinds of people oppose the Shadow Broker - fools and those on the payroll of very evil men. Killing the second? I get paid well for that. Killing the first? That's doing a favor to the whole galaxy. " Wrex closed his eyes.

"But you killed your own people for .. me?"

The krogan reached the top of the stairs and gave an amused grunt. "My people are dying slowly anyway, little girl. Everyone will be happier when we're all dead, anyway. Including us." The krogan looked around, this part of the wards nestled deep in the Morche Tower complex. Tali cocked her head at the bitterness in his voice, wondering why he would say such a statement, but the big krogan just turned his head to stare directly at her, red eyes narrowed, mouth a firm, hard line.

"Alright , listen up. Clinic is over there." He pointed at a nondescript set of doors , set off by a series of universal medical symbols – the asari circle , the salarian hash-marks, the turian shield, the human cross, and the krogan hand. He snorted at the last, such a flimsy looking building wouldn't contain a badly wounded krogan blood-raging in his death throes for very long. "Down this big hallway is a sign leading to Flux. That's where I'll be waiting. Come see me after you talk to Fist."

Tali nodded, mustering her courage. "Thank you, Wrex."

The krogan stomped off, half watching the quarian enter the medical office out of the corner of his eye, then grunting in suppressed irritation as he made his way through the crowds towards Flux. His mind was not on asari girls or quasar machines, but information.

Ten minutes later, he was ensconced in the only booth large enough for his vast bulk, a bowl of heavy tjark nuts on his table, and a slug of ice-cold ryncol in his meaty fist. "Varren dung, Doran. Your suit scrubbers must be full of it. I'd believe I fought at Gatatog, given how stupid he was, but not Weyrloc."

Flux was a nightclub that catered mainly to the up-and-coming set in the upper wards – haptic programmers, simsense interface controllers, C-sec investigators, financial analysts and the like. The bouncers were a set of krogan twins, incredibly rare , who were over half a century old and could read each other's movements like a book. Both were armed with light coaxial mass accelerators off of old turian light fighters, and heavy stunsticks used on Tuchanka to corral varren. No one, no matter how drunk, started trouble in Flux.

The club was triangular, a huge dance floor dominating the ground floor, reluctantly giving way to the bar and small eating area, while the balcony above was awash in the sounds of high stakes gambling and quasar machines. No tasteless asari in ass-revealing outfits here, only a salarian in white robes, playing a zith-kaan acoustic, plucking notes of elegant sorrow for the dining elite.

The krogan's booth was in the very back of the dining area, right next to the bar, and it was only rarely used. Wrex still wondered why Doran had gone to the trouble to put one in, given that the number of krogan with the cash to meet the cover fee when you could get a drink for far less was probably limited to a handful.

_It's just that the damned music is so catchy. Not that I can let that fat bastard know, I'd never hear the end of it from the silly pyjak. _

The figure across from him was a volus, the rotund creatures from Irune who were so savvy with money and entertainment venues. The volus's suit was a clean, stark black, with gleaming white trim. He was more slender than other volus, the chops of his mask coming to neat points tipped in gold, his eye-globes a soft, cunning green. His voice was a smooth baritone, interrupted periodically with the rasping sound of his respirator unit. "I assure you, Tuchanka-clan, that my information is valid and timely. Raik Bole was definitely the corpse found in the docks near the _Sullen Cloud_ – I heard C-Sec gossiping about it at the machines – and Raik Bole only partnered with one other of his kind. Weryloc Shan."

Wrex sighed. "I always thought better of Weyrloc. To think one of their pups was such a weakling offends the heart. Bah." Wrex downs more ryncol. "You haven't seen Tetrimus at all, then?"

The volus gave a rasp and then a long suffering sigh. "Oddly enough, a giant menacing Palaven-clan who has been burned to a crisp, is full of cybernetics, and is a biotic lunatic dressed all in melodramatic black is rather hard to miss. No, he's either not shown up at all, or is capable of being invisible."

"_No wonder volus are a prey species on Irune, Doran." _The voice is icy, cold, and comes out of nowhere. The volus gives a jumpy start, only to nearly fall over when a cascade of electricity erupts in the darkened corner near the back of the booth. A black-hooded figure stands there, leaning against the wall, heavy cane in hand. The sneering tip of a mandible quivers in amusement. "All the awareness of an elcor hallex addict, but only half the response time."

Wrex snorts, drinking another sip of ryncol. "Tetrimus. New toy?"

"Whole body cloaking. The humans actually came up with it first, but they can't figure out the power supply so the blasted thing only works for a few seconds. The Broker hooked up one of those Inusannon power stars. Now, I am seen at my leisure only." The turian glanced around, then sat with his back to the wall, next to Wrex, a blot of darkness. "And despite your complaints, volus, I have been in and out several times. I see no reason to walk in openly, thus announcing for any fool with eyes that the Shadow Broker is watching this place."

Doran gave the volus version of a shrug, sausage-plump arms twitching. "I am but a humble barkeep and cook. Nothing to see here." His voice was completely deadpan.

There was a pause, and all three men snorted in amusement. Tetrimus placed a datapad on the table. "Well, barkeep, we'll need your _help_ with this one. The entire operation has gone to pieces." His talons ticked over the pad, bringing up images of three dead, mauled bodies on a steel floor, blood spattered in crazy , looping shapes on a wall nearby. "All three of our Eden Prime operatives are deader than Septimus's chances with Sha'ira. Someone pierced our security at Caleston, almost killing the quarian, and then managed to ambush them right at the damned docks here. They killed Captain Troyce and almost got the quarian girl."

Wrex picked up a handful of nuts and dropped them into his maw, blocky teeth turning them to fine, gritty paste. "I sent her to that doc down the way , since that doc has a clean room. But before that...someone sent C-Sec into doing a sweep on quarian kids in the Upper Wards. They had at least 15 officers out, and the only reason I got her away is I lucked out with a greedy turian and dropped Fist's name."

Doran spluttered. "If they're into C-Sec, they could be … by Plenix. That's horrifying." A pause. "Is she safe there, alone? What if the Rannoch-clan is still being followed? My own people haven't found much, but like I was telling Wrex, a LOT of Tuchanka-clan mercs suddenly seem to be answering to Saren."

Wrex snorts. "It's fine. Soon as she leaves, we'll follow her to Chora's Den. Fist tries anything, I'll eat him. If he's clean, we toss the place until we find the leak. Delan can keep the girl here, in one of his rooms, until we figure out how to ship her off station, and give us an alibi if we need one."

Tetrimus coughed dryly. "And if the leak isn't Fist, when everything else is handled, you eat **them**, I suppose?"

Wrex only grabs another handful of nuts. "Only if they aren't turian. You guys taste horrible."


	19. Chapter 13 : al Jilani , Westerlund News

**A/N:** _ Irrissa is the asari who replaces Tevos if you don't save the Council. And of course we can't have nice things without our buddy Gavin Archer. This is kind of a filler chapter, I'll have a large update tomorrow.  
_

* * *

January 24th, 2183

_DOWNLOADING: Data feed, prime broadcast segment 54, terminal date 2183.24.1_

_Manifest dump 40303-core alpha, unclassified_

_This is an official Systems Alliance data capture dump , replication or rebroadcast is restricted._

_Transcript begins, identifiers J: al-Jilani G. Gavin Archer I: Irrissa Te'Shora_

_Keywords: geth, Eden Prime, Butcher_

BEGIN:

"Westerlund news! All the news , fit or unfit to print, 24/7!"

J: "Good afternoon. I'm **Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani**, Westerlund News Network. Today we're covering the top story on all the comm-links : the geth assault on Eden Prime, crown jewel in the Systems Alliance network of colonies. Is this random attack a precursor to a larger geth offensive, or were the geth somehow made aware of the stunning fact that Systems Alliance researchers had found a working **Prothean** beacon?"

J: "Joining us today are two very special guests: Dr. Gavin Archer, AI specialist for Synthetic Insights, and Irrissa Te'Shora, sub-adjunct to Asari Councilor Tevos. Welcome."

G: "Thank you."

I: {inclination of head}

J: "Let's begin. I'm sure you are both very aware of the horrific attacks conducted less than 24 hours ago on the pristine fields of Eden Prime. Details about the attack, other than the wide-burst transmission from the SSV Normandy calling for aid, have been both vague and conflicting. Do we have a clear idea of what exactly happened, Matriarch Irrissa?"

I: "Khalisah, we have a fairly clear understanding now. Please understand that some elements of the investigation are still under security seal, since it's ongoing, and the Council has not determined it's response yet. However, due to the... well, to be honest, unabashed rumor mongering and frankly delusional conspiracy theories being floated around Citadel space, I have been authorized to participate in this interview to clarify things."

I: {hands folded}

I: "First, the Systems Alliance did find a working Prothean Beacon on the surface of Eden Prime. At this time, we have no clear understanding of the Beacon's contents. Much like beacons found on other worlds, it appears to only interact with certain people, and almost always inflicts catastrophic mental damage in doing so."

J: "Fascinating. I can only suppose such a large find was carefully kept a secret?"

I: "It was attempted to be kept secret, but the Systems Alliance did contact the Council immediately to notify them of the find , and that the Systems Alliance was willing to share any discoveries, and the research of the Beacon itself, with the Council. As such, the Council prepared to send a team of Prothean experts under the wise guidance of one of our most dedicated researchers to the site in short order, once security was established. However I'd like to note here that dozens, possibly hundreds, of people on Eden Prime knew about the Beacon, and in the aftermath of the destruction of the planet's comm network, there is no evidence to let us know if someone from the planet communiated the Beacon's presence offworld."

J: "But it could be that someone who knew about it on the Citadel could have revealed the information?"

I: "Possible but very unlikely. Our comm records are intact..and C-Sec _is_ investigating. However, based on what we know, it's more likely that whoever compromised security was on Eden Prime itself."

J: "You think humans would sabotage their own colony in this fashion?"

I: "No, not at all. It may have been as simple as a solider or civilian calling a family member off planet to let them know about the find. There was a four hour gap between the discovery and when planetary officials finally put transmissions filters on the local net connections to the extranet and FTL comm buoys. Once it is out there, we don't know who may have accessed this information and who forwarded it to a target, but we do have investigators following that set of leads as well. "

J: "I see. What of the attack itself?"

I: "At this time, Systems Alliance military officials are handling the investigation of the attack, while C-Sec is focusing on the alibi's and communications records of anyone implicated in the attacks. I'm afraid for obvious reasons I cannot release names at this time."

J: "Of course, Matriarch...can you tell me why a Systems Alliance frigate, christened barely a day before the incident, was on site? There are multiple extranet postings on VidShare of the SSV _Normandy_ in orbit or operating in atmosphere, and rumors suggesting that Commander Shepard, best known for her assault on Torfan, was in operational command."

I: "As I said, parts of the investigation are still sealed. However, I can say that the _Normandy_ was tasked with transport of the Beacon to the Citadel, and was the first responder onto the scene, providing immediate relief to the colony. The Systems Alliance will be hosting a press conference in a few days to cover all material they choose to release at that time, which I am sure will put to rest any further questions."

I: {makes a gesture of siari, indicating she has said all that she can on the topic.}

J: {nods solemnly}"Our thoughts and prayers are with the colonists in this time of trouble, and our listeners are encouraged to donate to the Eden Prime Relief Fund. Keyword on the extranet: **AidEdenPrime**."

J: {pauses, turns to Archer} Dr. Archer, you are a senior researcher at Synthetic Insights, one of only four companies licensed and authorized by the Council to conduct limited AI research. Given that much of your company's efforts have been to research the geth, does anything strike you as strange about this attack?"

G: "Many things do, actually. One popular misconception is that geth are separate robot like beings. They are not, instead, they are collectively networked together in one mass intelligence. That means that there are no 'separatist groups' or minorities in the geth, any geth taking an action means that all geth have decided to take the action."

J: {nods, a bit uncertainly} .. I see. The significance being...?

G: "The significance being that this is not an isolated raid. It is a declaration of war. The geth must have organic ties, most likely pirates or other independents, who are operating in Citadel space. The more paranoid members of AIThreatsGroup on the extranet are , of course, pandering to the quarian rabble who created the geth, saying that the geth could monitor traffic and done this on their own. But Eden Prime is halfway across the galaxy from geth space. No, I'm afraid the only way the geth could have gotten there in time is if someone very close to the actual dig notified them immediately after it's discovery."

J: "That certainly is disturbing, Gavin. How likely is it, though, that the geth, who have refused all communications with the outside since their uprising 300 years ago, would communicate with organics? Or suddenly declare war, unprovoked."

G: "It does seem extremely far-fetched on the surface. But a review of some of the medical data coming off Eden Prime shows the savagery of this attack. Three towers full of colonists were destroyed, and the ground infantry defending the site were massacred. The fact that all reports state elements of a high powered nuclear bomb were recovered seems to indicate they were planning to blow up the colony to cover their tracks. It seems unlikely the geth would bother to do so, except to conceal their involvement altogether."

J: "How is that strange? Wouldn't most criminals do that?"

G: "Yes, but the geth do not care about such things in most cases. Other geth attacks in recent weeks have not had such extreme reactions. They don't hide who they are or that they attacked. The only reason to do so here must be to protect whoever is feeding them intelligence. That worries me, quite a bit. It implies their intelligence is adapting."

J: "There are, as Matriarch Irrissa stated, many wild theories being discussed about this attack. You've just stated that you think organics are aiding the geth. What is your take on why the geth would go after a Prothean Beacon?"

G: "You raise a very good point. From what little we know of the geth's motivations, they don't seem to be very interested at all in interacting with beings outside the Perseus Veil. Aside from their intelligence adapting and growing, the fact that they have done so indicates something major has changed in the geth outlook. Humanity has stated for years that it's irresponsible to not have any sort of intelligence assets working on the issue of the geth. But worries me the most is that – no offense, Matriarch – the Citadel Council does not seem to be taking this attack, and other geth incidents very seriously. The geth are not organics. They will not preface an all out attack with a declaration of war. They don't need supply lines or food supplies. They don't have morale, or fear, and they can't be conquered conventionally because what spotty intelligence we do have indicates they don't even use the planets they have access to."

{Archer frowns, staring directly at the camera.} "If the geth have decided to attack us, the next incident may be a geth armada, led by one or more of those titanic black dreadnaughts that we can't match, blasting their way into Citadel space. It's not rumor mongering to admit the truth."

* * *

The signal clicked off, the three men sitting in chairs around a steel table each with a different expression on their face.

"It appears things are moving at a pace we did not . . . anticipate." The first figure knocks the ash from his cigarette calmly, his other hand cradling his drink. "Saren failed to cover his tracks, and now we have to worry about our own exposure, and that of our projects."

"Project Invictus is going well. The rachni and thorian plant creatures .. not so well. Our only concern is Kohoku interfering with our programs. That's why I believe this mishap may actually turn to our benefit." The second man swallows his own scotch, grimacing.

The final man taps long, slender fingers together. "I think it's time we prepared contingency plans. If Saren is no longer viable as a partner..there is always value in moving him into the category of "recoverable asset". A little prodding never hurt anyone."

The first man narrows glowing blue eyes at the other two. "Cerberus cannot afford exposure at this time. The financial aspects are still vulnerable.'

The other two men shrug, and the response is predictable. "Well, Jack, I suggest you come up with something, Quick. " The two other figures in the room vanish into holographic static, and the Illusive Man, one third of the slouching beast of Cerberus, ponders his next move.


	20. Chapter 14 : Citadel, Arrival

**A/N:** _More stage setting. It's about to get seriously AU up in here, so don't worry. _

January 24, 2183

Shepard spent the brief time prior to docking with the Citadel taking a quick look around the ship. Although certainly not a people person, she felt it was her duty as executive officer to make her presence known. Dr. Chakwas was not entirely enthused about her staggering about, but acquiesced without much of a fight when Shepard pointed out that she might as well walk around, as she definitely would have walking to do on the Citadel, and any problems , loose bandages or torn stitches would be dealt with better sooner rather than later.

The Normandy wasn't a large frigate. It had 3 decks and, which included the cargo bay. The upper deck, the CIC, had the ops alley, the bridge, and the comms room. On either side of the comms room were two tiny staterooms, basically a private sleeper pod, a locker, a shelf, and a desk and chair. She got the port side one, Pressley the starboard side one.

The next deck down was the crew deck. It consisted of the captains quarters, and just forward of that a tiny galley tucked behind a slide-away panel. On the other side, the med bay and the research lab, which doubled as a storeroom. Between the two, a narrow pathway connected the battery pod to the mess area, the path lined with sleeper pods. There were 20 of the narrow, coffin like devices, which were held on gamboled arms. Closed pods in use retracted beneath the floor to a horizontal position, while the inactive pods were vertical, displayed to the world. Two pods at the end were much larger, designed to fit turians, krogan, or other exotic species and special equipment.

The mess area was a few tables and chairs, an integral soda/coffee unit, and a large haptic display array showing a selection of news and entertainment feeds. Behind the wall hosting this, the two stairways that lead up to the CIC came together in the ships systems panel and the elevator.

Two doors on either side of the stairs led to what passed for ships heads – a single shower and a waste recycling unit. A single door to the right of the ships systems panel lead to "officer country" – 3 sleeper pods, a couple of shelves, and a desk – the home of the Marine Command Element, the Chief Engineer, and the Flight Lieutenant. Alenko was in his pod asleep when she took a peek in side, but the others were about their duties.

Shepard took the elevator down to the final deck, the operations deck. Bisected by sealed pressure doors, the forward half of the ops deck was given over to the hanger. This hosted an M35 Mako tank, the armory pod, storage lockers, and the ships gym equipment. The quartermaster had a tiny office here, built into the corner of the bay, carefully sealed against vacuum in case of active deployments while he was on duty. The man doubled as the ships yeoman, his office having a small micro-frame computer built into the wall.

Shepard stepped inside the cubby, frowning. "Quartermaster?"

The man was young, almost fragile looking, his standard BDU blues looking loose on him, but he came to a sharp attention. "Commander, ma'am. How may I help you?"

Shepard glanced around, then met his gaze. "Inventory report." She listened carefully to his explanation of how the Alliance requisition system worked – ships drew standard stocks, food, fuel, spare parts, ammo blocks, hard-suits and weapons – based on an allotment system. Any desired purchases above and beyond that had to come out of the ships discretionary funds. Taking down pirates with a bounty, turning in (or just selling) confiscated arms, armor, equipment, logging mineral or archeological sites – the Alliance cheerfully paid for all of these, and the Captain disbursed them as he or she saw fit. At the end of a patrol run, when the ship was put in drydock for months , the fund was split between officers and crew.

"Interesting", she said. _And about two steps above that Corsair program they keep talking about kicking off. _"I wasn't aware the Navy had as much of a hard-on for anti-pirate ops as the Corps did."

The quartermaster gave a small smile, his mousy brown hair mostly covered by his regulation ball cap, which he pulled off to scratch his head before replacing it. "Well, after Elysium, Commander Branson really convinced the Admiralty Board to put more funds towards anti-pirate ops. And , uh, after Torfan, well..." He trailed off, shrugging .. "they finally saw that you couldn't just stick marines on the ground everywhere and expect 100 guys to stop a thousand batarians."

Shepard narrowed her eyes, but only nodded. "Very well, ensign. Things actually look squared away down here, which is about the first pleasant surprise since I set foot on board. Carry on."

The man looked shocked but saluted sharply again, and Shepard walked out and down the shallow hallway to engineering. The heavy pressure doors opened, and the air filled with the solemn hum of a mass drive core.

The Tantalus Core, she had read, was the single most advanced drive system in the fleet. Massive for a frigate, it allowed the Normandy to handle more nimbly than almost any other ship, and provided enough motive power to enable the heat-diffusion system of the stealth systems to work at top efficiency. The theory on it bored Shepard , but the basic idea – if all you can see in space is heat, then store the heat and you are invisible – made enough sense.

Engineering was dark, most of the lighting coming from the mass effect corona generated by the core. Ranks of panels formed a barrier around the core pit, staffed with engineers monitoring all aspects of power, heating, and propulsion. The engineer's office stood to one side, tucked against the wall behind a single bulkhead , a plexan window almost half the height of the wall piercing it. Haptic displays shone dully through it as Engineer Adams reviewed something. "Commander, ma'am, welcome to Engineering." His voice was a quiet drawl, and he looked almost … sleepy. But his hands moved with a brisk energy over the keyboard as he updated some kind of information in his system.

"Just taking a walk around to loosen up my legs and a quick in-brief. Anything I need to know, Chief?"

Adams leaned back in his seat, thoughtful. "Not off the top of my head, ma'am. Despite how heated it got down on the ground, our only issue up here was waste heat. Presley got a bit creative in alleviating it, and we have some minor repairs to make to the radiator vanes, but that's already pre-ordered and repair crews on the station waiting."

She nodded. "Any crew issues?"

Adams shook his head. "No, ma'am. I mean, everyone was kind of put together on the spot, most just transferred in a day or two before you did, but everyone on my team has at least 5 years experience in frigate engineering ops, and half of them are cross-trained as operations people. And everyone on board has at least one marine combat op. It's good"

"Very good. We'll almost certainly be stuck on the Citadel for some time, the ever-fucking Council is gonna _love_ our report, so your staff should use this opportunity to stock up on parts and make sure everything is working correctly. With any luck, once circus is over, we can get back to actual scouting and patrol duty."

"Yes, ma'am, we'll be ready". Adams voice was confident, and Shepard nodded, walking back to the elevator.

_Everything is working smoothly. Mm. _Shepard felt her leg loosen a bit more, and stretched as the elevator dropped her back on the crew deck. Slowly walking to her stateroom, Shepard considered what she knew about the mission thus far.

_First, they weren't really expecting problems with the Beacon pickup. If they were, someone would haven given orders to heavily fortify the dig site. So the whole point of having Nihlus on board probably was to evaluate me, just like he said. _

_Second, this was all put together very quickly. Adams sounded a bit surprised that everyone on board is so … experienced. Hmm.  
_

Shepard reached her room, and activated her personal terminal, pulling up personnel records. _Alenko...huh. Biotic instructor 3 years. 3 years anti-pirate ops. 2 years as junior ops officer on a frigate. Kind of a waste for a 10 man security detail on a tiny frigate. _

_Pressley. Lieutenant Commander 3 years prior to this, he should be looking at getting his own command soon, not Navigator. 10 years anti-pirate ops...and he was one of the guys on over-watch at Torfan. Well well well. Small arms instructor? Psychology degree? Wrote books on deployed artillery? No way you'd stick a guy this flexible on a fucking frigate on a shakedown._

_Adams. Lieutenant...ah. Right. Pissed off Senator Jackson by eloping with his daughter. No wonder his career is dead...but still pulled assistant engineer on a pretty big ship. Has a doctorate in mass energy transfer, whatever the hell that is. And was a marine for 4 years before going spacer. Again, waste of talent. _

She rubbed her eyes. _And of course, putting me and Anderson on the ship is overkill as well. From what Joker was saying, he's some kind of piloting bad-ass, and Chakwas put me together twice as fast as any doctor I've had before. _

_So they didn't tell us , or the guys on the ground, to expect shit to go wrong, but if it did...they made sure we had the best people. And the only ship that could possibly have survived. No dice._

She exited the stateroom, marching directly to Anderson's quarters, and tapped the entry request panel. "Enter!"

Anderson was adjusting his dress uniform in the mirror that looked like it swiveled down from the ceiling. "Shepard. About 10 minutes until we dock. "

She nodded. "Yes sir. I have... a question about the mission, sir."

Anderson waved a hand as he finished smoothing out his dress jacket. "Ask, and drop the sir garbage."

She gave a small smile and nodded. "I.. I don't like patterns I'm seeing. I was told this trip was the first of several missions designed for Nihlus to assess my skills before making a recommendation on my suitability for being a Spectre."

Anderson nodded. "That is correct."

Shepard exhaled. "I know I'm not college educated, the only schooling I had was the Academy and what I've picked up on my own. I didn't even know how to read or write until I was almost 14. But I'm not stupid. Every single member of the crew is top-tier. Alenko has the chops to be an XO in his own right, Pressley should be commanding a destroyer by now. Chakwas has the skills I'd expect from a CMO of a dreadnaught. I can understand assigning you , since you're the person who has had the most impact on my career...but the rest does not fit."

Anderson slid away the mirror by touching a control on the wall, and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Shepard hesitated, then sat, and Anderson wearily sat on the bed, rubbing his jaw.

"Sara . . . the committee that decided on a Spectre candidate originally was focused around a couple of figures. Commander Branson, the hero of Elysium, obviously was a candidate. So was Captain Delacor, your old CO. They even considered tapping Commander Linson, the biotic who broke your old C7 record. All of these choices were shot down as either being too … mm. Human-centric … "

She coughed. "Translation, racist asshats."

Anderson gave a lopsided smile. "..or they were simply not politically acceptable. You were , believe it or not, the only candidate Hackett and Adkins agreed on. Both Kyle and I pushed your name in the running, because you can get the job done."

"Kyle"... she sighed, glancing away. "Is he okay?"

Anderson shook his head. "Not really. He's never recovered from .. his sons dying. But he doesn't blame you for that."

Her voice was bitter. "He should. I let my crew get killed." She exhaled. "What does that have to do with this?"

Anderson nodded. "The main reason we chose this whole mess – this trip as a test of your skills, a stealth frigate, all of it – is we had .. a very vague warning that something bad was going to go down at Eden Prime. No specifics. Just a warning with no source. 'Go in loaded for bear at Eden Prime, only send your best'. The … method the message was received was disturbing, it was bounced through the highest encryption protocols , but there was no record of the message being sent or received. And it was distributed to the Admiralty Board as if digitally signed, but the signature was that of a dead man. Admiral Janar, who's access codes weren't properly terminated in the system. Janar died on Valthsi trying to pierce the Perseus Veil, until the recent troubles started, he was the last Systems Alliance casualty we had to the geth."

Shepard sat back. "That's a .. pretty heavy warning, sir. I can see why you didn't know what to expect..."

Anderson nodded. "So yeah, I had Hackett pull together the best people we could get on short notice. None of this has been released. It's need-to-know stuff, not even code-word. But the Admiralty thinks we have high level spies … or worse … in positions of power."

"Worse? What the hell could be worse than spies, sir?" Her voice was puzzled.

Anderson stood, tapping the subcutaneous comm link in his jaw.. "Joker, status report."

"Two minutes out, sir. Citadel has granted docking authorization at bay D-24."

Anderson nodded, then turned to Shepard. "After the First Contact War ended, a lot of people felt threatened by the existence of the Council races, their power and technology. There were a pair of very deep cover black ops projects to fix that. One was called Janus, it was to present an amiable face to the Council. I was a part of Janus, so was Commander Branson. Janus tried to ensure that every other race's contact with our military was pleasant, but firm , and that we showed our strength. We tapped comm-links to find where pirates would hit alien colonies in range of our ships and 'happen along' in time to save them. We'd share intel on pirate groups and basically...well, participated in Council space."

"But the other program was the opposite. It was called Cerberus, and it was designed to .. well, do dirty tricks. Assassinate alien politicians opposed to us. Steal technology. Experiment with new and sometimes dangerous experiment tech to keep humanity's edge. As Janus ended up being staffed with people who liked aliens, Cerberus became , well, bigoted."

Anderson looked at Shepard. "Most of the people in Janus … are no longer active. We had a setback.. one involving Saren, actually, and the program was … let to go to seed. But when Alliance brass tried to shut down Cerberus, the three program heads went dark, and most of their people with them. No one knew what they were up to, except they were rogue."

Shepard nodded. "And..."

Anderson exhaled. "Cerberus and Janus shared the same base encryption keys for their messages. No one else was familiar with it, but I remember it because I was there when the programmers developed it. Whoever sent that message to us was Cerberus. And if someone in Cerberus can access that high of clearance, to warn us, it means someone else could access that high of clearance to … betray us."

Shepard frowned. "This .. is not really holding together, sir. I thought you said Saren hated humanity, wanted to destroy us. I don't follow how Cerberus has anything to do with Eden Prime at all. "

Anderson shook his head. "They don't, surely. But I was tapping the best people I knew because I was expecting Cerberus involvement at Eden Prime. I was expecting a human attack, and quite frankly I was almost certain they were involved until you got on the ground. But that still means Cerberus knew an attack was coming days before we did. We need to find out how, and why."

She nodded. Anderson strode to the door, just as Joker came over the intercom. "All hands, the Normandy is moored. Shore security, stand to. Captain, we have a transmission from the Council, you're to report to Ambassador Udina's office ASAP."

Anderson only grunted, waving Shepard to follow. He crossed the mess , stopping to open the door to medbay. "Chakwas. How are our guests?"

The gray-haired doctor was adjusting something on a medical bed. "Captain. Lieutenant Parker is still in a coma, I'm afraid. He needs to be transferred to a hospital. Master Sergeant Cole is still in critical condition , the loss of an eye, several pints of blood, and most of his liver almost killed him. Chief Williams is ambulatory, but wounded. Much like the Commander here."

Anderson nodded, and tapped the comm link by the door. "Gunnery Chief Williams, report to the airlock for shore duty, BDU's only."

Shepard frowned. "Sir?"

"She's an eyewitness , Shepard. Come on."

Twenty minutes later, the three humans sat in Ambassador Udina's spacious office. The beautiful vista of the Presidium ring was visible through the un-glassed window, the graceful shadow of cherry blossoms providing an elegant frame of the awesome view.

Seated at a handsome silver and steel desk, Ambassador Donnel Udina surveyed the three people before him. His features were craggy and heavy, lips thin, nose almost hooked. Sharp, black eyes assessed , measured, questioned everything around him. He ran a hand over his thinning salt-and-pepper hair and sighed. "This is a political **shit-storm** waiting to happen.'

Anderson said nothing, his broad face placid. Shepard was completely expressionless, her dark features unreadable and seemingly calm. Williams sat stiffly, her arm still bandaged, BDU's creased so sharply they looked as if new.

Udina placed both hands on his desk and scowled, leaning forward. "I've managed to obtain an interview with the Council, but I'm not 100% sure what they plan to ask about. Right now, the situation is grim. Nihlus dead, the beacon destroyed pointlessly, the colony ravaged." His scowl turned into a sneer. "I thought you said the Butcher could get the job done, Anderson."

Shepard's face didn't change expression, merely gazing at Udina coolly, but even meeting that gaze mad the politician swallow nervously. Anderson merely frowned. "Ambassador, please. We can hardly be faulted for not being prepared for an army of geth, or a giant dreadnaught, or a rogue Spectre."

Udina shook his head. "We have no proof of that, Anderson. I'm only going to tell you this once, your history with Saren is bitter enough that the Council is not going to believe anything you say without solid proof."

Anderson's frown grew angry. "Saren is a danger! He shot his own friend and we have eyewitness testimony-"

Udina slammed his fist on the desk. "NO, Captain, what you have is a 15-year old vendetta! I'm FULLY aware of that. You have a dead dockworker with a criminal record and whose autopsy reports show he was on red sand. Police reports show he was a smuggler, stealing military equipment and selling it to various parties, and he probably got shot so he couldn't squeal. We are not going in there to make intergalactic fools of humanity. I don't want to hear it."

Shepard tilted her head. "I was under the impression that an investigation would be done on this issue, both by our teams at Eden Prime and by C-Sec."

Udina snorted. "As if. The Eden Prime teams haven't found anything much more than you did. All of the geth have internal self-destructs, so we can't learn anything from their logs or data chips or whatever they use. We have video of the giant ship, but it's outline looks vaguely geth to me. Squid-like. It could be they developed it,or it could be something they salvaged and modeled their own ships after."

Udina sighed. "We supposedly had evidence that the Shadow Broker had obtained, but that person was killed , and what kind of evidence he was bringing we were never told. The C-Sec investigator here is a blasted turian, so I doubt we'll get much traction there against Saren. No, the best we can hope for is that they'll recognize this geth attack as dangerous, and provide us with Council fleets to stop further attacks. IF it is Saren, he'll make a mistake and the Council can deal with him as they see fit."

Anderson seethed. "And what about Shepard's vision from the beacon?"

Udina rolled his eyes. "Have you ever dealt with the fine councilors,captain? I assure you, half-assed dreams aren't going to be taken as anything but an admittance that Shepard is crazy. I can just see Sparatus now." Udina mimed air quotes as he spoke in a high , mincing voice. "Ah, yes. Dream evidence. We'll have to dismiss that."

There was a long moment of silence, then Williams snickered. Udina threw her a glare, but she only straightened. "I was just agreeing with you,sir. The turians are gonna stand up for their own, not listen to us."

Udina nodded, and smiled."Yes, I agree Chief...Williams was it? No matter." He turned to Anderson. "They want to debrief you and Shepard in the Council tower in ten minutes. Take a shuttle there, and meet me there." Udina strode out of his office, scowling , and then the doors shut behind him.

Williams spoke up. "Well, he's a little ray of fucking sunshine, isn't he?"


	21. Chapter 15 : Citadel , Trial

**A/N:** _ I apologize for the length of this chapter. But breaking it up would have just been .. artificial. The real divergences begin here. _

_It's good to know at least one person has picked up on Udina's reluctance to bring all the pieces to the table in front of the Council. Why is made clear in this chapter. _

* * *

January 24, 2183

The chambers of the Citadel Council spoke of many things. The high, arching ceiling and elegant steel buttresses that flowed into wide open spaces for the public to gawp spoke of arrogant , conceited pride. The overblown gardening and ridiculously expensive cherry trees spoke of waste, extravagance, and a touch of hypocrisy, given that humans were not on the council but their trees decorated their chambers.

The heavily armed guards , in stupendously thick armor with double shield generators and cold, predatory gazes, spoke of people who clearly did not rule through the generous appreciation of their subjects. The wide gap between the Council's throne-like platform and the pitifully thin span where people plead their cases spoke of immense, overweening self-ego, as if to demonstrate there was no way anyone on this side could ever cross over to that side.

All in all, Shepard's immediate and ongoing urge was to take a flamethrower to the place.

She, Williams and Captain Anderson had arrived punctually, spending on a few minutes walking through the park-like environs of the Ring to get to an aircar. The gaudy, grandiose vision of the future style atmosphere was such a hard contrast to the slums of Earth and the broken battlefields of the colonies that Shepard wanted to spit. For the first time, she began to grasp just why the Council species never seemed to pay much attention to pirates, slave gangs, pissed off petty dictators, plagues, and the thousand other pitfalls in the dark that everyone else had to deal with. Sealed in this fake paradise, they didn't even need to put up with anything but the best.

Standing in front of the Citadel Council, her suspicions were mostly confirmed.

Udina stood at the end of the petitioners pier, his white silk suit gleaming faintly in the dim, filtered light of the chamber. His fists were clenched, his lips drawn into a grim line, his entire being radiated fury. Shepard wondered if he would actually catch fire or just have a heart attack on the spot.

"This is an _OUTRAGE_**! **You would not respond this way if a _turian_ colony were attacked!"

Councilor Sparatus smugly folded his arms. "Unlike humans, we do not found poorly defended worlds on the edge of Council space. You were warned about that dangers of the Traverse and you chose to inhabit the place anyway." His elegant clothing hung in complex layers from his lanky frame, his dark plating only making his white facial markings stand out more.

Udina looked at the councilor as if he had lost his mind. "Have you taken complete leave of your senses? We were not attacked by pirates, or slavers, or batarian radicals! If the attack on Eden Prime had been something of that nature I would take your words as bitter but accurate truth."

Udina half turned away, hands jabbing into the air, pointing at the holographic video visible above the Council's head. "But to expect geth to invade our world with the intention of destroying it? No, ten thousand times no. They killed 30,000 people! They stole a priceless beacon and MURDERED your own damned Spectre! The Council MUST respond to this and move fleets to protect our colonies from further aggression."

Without even looking at his colleagues, Sparatus shook his head. "Human, you do not dictate to the council."

Udina folded his arms, face set in a near snarl. "If the Council sees no value or reason to aid the Alliance when it is under attack by external forces..." He paused, mastering his anger, and then gave a cold, grim smile "...then the Alliance sees no reason to bother participating in this farce. Orders have already been given to the Alliance fleet. We will evacuate our border colonies that overlap Council Space and withdraw." He glared at all three Councilors. "We are not going to allow ourselves to be attacked while our fleet is crippled by a treaty we were forced into after being unreasonably attacked in the first place!"

The turian snarled. "Your species rushing in to unlock mass relays is why your kind was -"

Udina exploded. "Your idiot commanders opened fire on the ships doing so without even explaining why. Your ham-handed assault on us was justified by laws supposedly defending the so-called galactic community that we did not even know existed! And now , 3 decades later, we are a 'part' of your precious Council, your farce of a galactic community ,except we have no voice, no representation in the Spectres, no officers in C-Sec, no chartered banks, nothing but a pitiful pile of excuses and 30,000 dead victims because you are too cowardly to defend your own space! Where are you laws defending US in this situation? Where are your trigger happy fleets?"

Udina exhaled, eyes narrowed almost slits, and his voice was bitter. "Sitting on your hands is not going to convince humanity that you are acting in our best interests, _turian_."

The room was filled with shocked murmuring from the balconies, as the hard words echoed through the broad arena. Shepard concealed a smirk. _He's an asshole, but he is __**very**__ good at being an asshole. _

Councilor Tevos gave the turian next to her a hard glare, and then cleared her throat to speak, her crests visible as she bowed her head. Her robe was almost demure compared to the expensive finery her other two Councilor's wore, but they clung to her form rather revealingly. Her features were almost nondescript for an asari, fairly plain aside from her complicated facial markings. "Ambassador, we are not unsympathetic to your cause, and we freely admit that this is an unprecedented situation. We are prepared to provide medical assistance packages, transport ships, and monetary relief for the refugees on Eden Prime."

She paused, then smiled, gesturing to the salarian next to her as she continued. "And stand assured that we are not just sitting on our hands, as you put it. The Salarians have five entire STG teams investigating the logistics of the attack. Our own C-Sec has put a special investigator onto your claims of Saren's involvement, even without the slightest bit of solid evidence on your part. The volus have already gifted almost 50 million credits worth of medical supplies and emergency housing to the Alliance to help with the aftermath."

She paused again, waiting, and Udina unfolded his arms. Her voice softened as she continued. "But the ugly reality is that your own argument defeats you. The geth didn't attack Eden Prime because it was a human colony, but due to the Beacon you found. The other geth incidents did not happen on solely human worlds. Placing a large contingent of warships around your colony worlds in the Traverse would be seen as an incitement by Aria and other warlords, and would not guarantee that an attack didn't fall elsewhere. The Council cannot endanger turian, or asari, or hanar worlds to safeguard your far-flung colonies against the possibility of an attack. We understand your frustration, and your words about the Relay 314 incident are taken to heart, but we cannot simply scatter our fleets to the four winds as you suggest."

The sallow features of the Salarian Councilor peered out from the richly decorated hooded robes he wore, his armored forearms the only mark of his past as an STG specialist. "Finally, Councilor...we haven't even had a chance to understand exactly what occurred at Eden Prime, or touch on this … allegation... of involvement by our top agent. All we know is one of our best agents is dead and that your own Commander Shepard accessed the Beacon prior to it's suspicious detonation. And so far, the only response to our questions is the claim – by a figure with a long and well-known antagonistic background with Saren – that Saren is behind this geth attack and is out to destroy humanity.'

Udina sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand, his right opening in a vague gesture. "It is . . . frustrating to approach this matter in such a clinical light, Councilors. I had a niece on Eden Prime, who is mourning three of her sons, now dead in the attacks." Udina straightens. "But the statements I made still stand."

Sparatus gave a theatrical sigh. "And what are we supposed to do that we have not already done?"

Udina folds his arms once more, then grimaces. "I .. will make the recommendation that we await the outcome of further investigations. We will consider the attack reactions a tabled issue for now. But that still does not cover the agreement we came to regarding the Beacon."

Tevos shakes her head. "According to your reports, the Beacon is destroyed. Unless your Commander Shepard can give us any insight into it's contents, we can hardly reward you for a technological bounty we do not have. We will be, of course, happy to recognize the intent that the Alliance showed in contacting us at all. The concessions on tariff and inspection will be honored, and we will review the Treaty of Farixen."

Next to her, Valern speaks up. "But any thing else, such as Spectre candidacy, has to be placed on hold. We don't even have a good concept of what happened on Eden Prime yet, after all." Valern gestures to Captain Anderson, who steps forward with Shepard and Williams. "We will now table the issue of Eden Prime reinforcement and move on to the actual attack inquiry. The team has arrived to answer our questions. Perhaps after we get clarification on this issue, we can move forward with whatever next steps may or may not be … taken."

Shepard sighed. _Oh , here we go down the fucking rabbit hole. _

Udina sighs. "Councilors, I regret that we do not have .. sufficient evidence to prove anything at this time. Our own investigation is still ongoing, of course, as I understand yours is. But – "

Sparatus shook his head. "Oh, no, Ambassador. Your Alliance was very vocal in shouting Saren's name out as the perpetrator of this horrific act. You demanded _action_, if I recall correctly. You cannot stroll through the halls of the Council and smear Saren's name and demand we place him on inactive status, then claim you have no evidence and need more time. Executor Pallin has already given us his report, which mostly consists of him admitting that there isn't anything solid linking Saren to the attacks. We have eyewitnesses placing Saren on Noveria during the attacks. He has a witness in Lady Benezia, an asari matriarch, corroborating that. We have only a pair of dead mercenaries who were apparently caught up in some form of criminal activity, and a purported agent of the Shadow Broker who was killed, and a very sketchy financial transaction from Saren's accounts that was authorized remotely and may have been a hack. The mercs worked for Saren in the past, but that means nothing, given that Saren has employed hundreds of mercs in his many years of flawless service. One of the mercs also worked for your Admiral Hackett, should we now assume he had some part in this vile attack?" The sarcastic tone of the turian broke off abruptly as Tevos touched his arm, and he stepped back, clearly irritated.

Tevos sighed, and shook her head. "We cannot simply ignore the allegations made , Ambassador. We must hear your evidence, such as it is, and determine Saren's innocence or involvement."

Udina turns to Captain Anderson, then back to the Council. "I'll leave that to Captain Anderson, then. I wish it noted , however, that our investigation is still ongoing and could turn up additional evidence or point to other involved parties at a later time."

Anderson steps up next to Udina, back straight. "Councilors."

Tevos and Valern, the salarian councilor, nodded, while Sparatus just sighed again. "Captain Anderson. It has been some time since you were last before this council...with wild allegations against Saren which proved untrue, after a seemingly simple mission turned into a massacre. This seems very familiar, right down to the Spectre assessment."

Anderson only nodded. "I was in overall command of the mission, but I wasn't running it ground side. I have here with me Commander Shepard, who was in charge of the ground team, and Chief Williams, who is a survivor of the infantry unit that was assigned to defend the dig site. As to the _wildness_ of our allegation, our claims are clear: an eyewitness saw Saren interacting with Geth, and he heard Saren admit to killing Nihlus. Evidence on the scene indicates a turian did kill several humans, with turian claw-marks on the bones of burned bodies. You have already been appraised of our … setbacks … in our investigation on Eden Prime, but our assertion stands."

The turian nodded. "C-Sec has agreed to investigate the finances of the drell assassin your men killed, who murdered the … witness. However, we need to make a few things clear, Captain. Your only eye-witness was a habitual red-sand user with a long history of mental illness and a lengthy criminal record. He was actively engaged in smuggling, and we know for a fact that Saren was widely known and reviled among smugglers due to him targeting them. It pains me to admit that , based on forensic evidence, a turian must have been present on the site – but that does not mean there is any solid evidence indicating Saren's guilt."

There was a commotion to the rear, and Shepard half turned. Walking forward was a tall, broad turian in gleaming silver and black armor. A cloth half-cloak of purest black was tossed over his shoulders, embossed with the Spectre winged seal, and sort of loincloth obscured his hips and upper legs, draped over his battle armor. His voice flanged out, as hard as his face, with it's plated angles and pointed mandibles. "Yes...Captain Anderson always seems to be at the forefront of any line when humanity has made up charges against me."

Anderson turned. "Saren!"

The turian Spectre stopped at the top of the stairs. "I am rather disturbed that I have to find out from old friends in C-Sec that the Council distrusts me. I am almost amused that, once again, this failed excuse of a human commander sees fit to attempt to besmirch my name with no evidence. And I am infuriated that no one is explaining to me what kind of fool let my friend go off by himself into a war zone!"

Tevos arched her brow, but held her hand up. "There is a question of your involvement in this, Agent. There are … discrepancies in some communications entries. Several people have died recently, and the murderers are all known to have had past history with you. While there is no solid proof, the reality is that your influence and power mean that if you are involved in anyway, we have to investigate."

Saren merely shrugged. "I have read the Eden Prime reports. The commander here seems to have done a commendable job, the loss of the Beacon notwithstanding. However, allowing such a priceless device to blow up after going through so much to secure it seems...anomalous."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "I would have figured you'd be more upset about Nihlus's death, than the Beacon blowing up."

Cold gray eyes met steely blue ones. For a single moment the entire gallery was silent. Then Saren gave a small, jerky motion with his head. "Nihlus...was too damned impulsive for his own good. The moment he was .. careless enough to head out on his own instead of sticking to the team, especially in a hostile warzone, he was already dead. I lay that on you, since you had ground command. Did you even TRY to suggest splitting up was a bad idea? No. According to reports you let him go on his own while you redeployed to save humans."

Shepard leaned forward, her form still and yet taut with anger. "Nihlus made it very clear he was _observing_ me, not under my command. He was armed to the teeth and had 20 years of training on me. And it wasn't geth who killed him, someone met him in open battle and beat him. How many people could do that... besides you? I'm a badass but I'm not **that** badass." She folds her arms, stepping back.

Anderson gazed at Saren with loathing. "And how is it you know any of this? I made very sure you were not copied on any of the findings from Eden Prime!"

Saren rolled his eyes. "Of course you were. But Nihlus's files passed to me on his death. Really, this is … tiresome. I was on Noveria, shutting down a corrupt human facility investigating illegal AI research...again." Saren's eyes narrowed. "An investigated interrupted by this ridiculous spirit hunt."

Turning back to Shepard, he snarled, mandibles flaring. "And as for your statement...no, you are not that 'bad-ass'. Nihlus would have split you in two. But no one is invincible. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make it look like I was involved , but look at it from my point, human. How would you feel if someone framed you for killing Anderson over there?"

Shepard jerked back, as if kicked, and the turian Spectre only nodded. "That's what I thought."

Tevos glanced uncertainly at Valern, who stepped forward. "Order, please. We have questions and need them answered., not some kind of contest of who has the bigger egg clutch." Turning to Shepard, the salarian spoke. "Commander, did you see , at any time, Saren on Eden Prime?"

Shepard shook her head. "No. Just geth."

"You spoke with the witness. Did they seem to be speaking with veracity?"

Shepard hesitated, remembering. "They were somewhat disoriented. Some of the things he described did not seem to make a lot of sense. But they did describe Saren's armor correctly. And they mentioned Nihlus's name." Shepard gave a cold smile. "I find it difficult to explain how the smuggler would have known about Nihlus being on planet."

Saren seemed unconcerned. "And I find it difficult to explain that, according to your report, this dockworker was the only survivor. Literally everyone else had been butchered , hidden away or not, but one man miraculously survives, someone who not only manages to catch my name but directly link me to the murder of Nihlus. This same eyewitness conveniently is assassinated in Alliance custody, on an Alliance world, surrounded by more security than Arcturus Station. And we are told that a mercenary drell, who has done work for me in the past, is the perp. Because a drell would fit _right_ in on a human colony world." Saren gave a low laugh.

"You will forgive me if this has the feel of a set up, Commander." Saren turned to the Council. "I request you review secured notes on investigative report 65-Theta-7. Specifically, end of said report." Saren waits, while Udina scowls.

The three councilors review something on their haptic interface screens, and the turian councilor puts his hand to his face, shaking his head. Tevos speaks softly. "...Ambassador Udina, according to an after-action report filed by your own Alliance marines, the drell assassin was already wanted in Alliance space prior to the assassination, and arrived on planet after the attack. But your security officials waved him through because he had this." Tevos taps a control, and the holoimage of an Alliance Local Authority pass is shown, the drell's picture cleanly incorporated.

Udina shook his head. "What? Impossible."

Saren snorted. "Hardly. After I found out my friend got killed, and the only witness murdered, I did my own looking around. A tip lead me to contact a Lieutenant Commander David Barnes – Eden Prime's military Council liaison set up after the attacks – and he was kind enough to be honest with me and pull this data for review. Not only did he mention he had given this data to your investigative team, which shut him down, he said something else." Saren tapped his omni-tool, and the voice of a young man spoke, while a thin red haptic integrity logo showed the data had not been altered in any way.

"Yes sir. On arrival, the drell indicated he was here on a personal favor from General Rachel Florez. He showed us this pass, and said he had to conduct some private business involving a relative of the General who passed away in the attacks. When his criminal record flashed, he said he had that cleared months ago. One of the MP's was skeptical but the drell just asked why he would come here if he had a murder charge on him and encouraged us to contact Florez if we needed authorization. We ran the pass and it came up legit, and with comms so messed up we just let it go."

Saren tapped another control , while Udina shot Anderson a look, who stepped away to use his commlink. A moment later, the voice of Lieutenant Commander Barnes spoke again. "No sir, I mentioned this to the investigator. They just didn't seem to care, they said they had the information they needed to 'make this all fit'. One of them told me to keep my mouth shut and focus on getting the defenses back up. They wiped my omni-tool , but my tool auto-archives everything into the microframe in my suit to avoid hackers and the like. So I had a copy of … the drells authorization."

Saren cut off the recording. Anderson was speaking quietly into his comm, and then stepped forward. "Councilors...Admiral Florez committed suicide this morning, about 2 hours after the drell assassin struck. We are..still investigating."

Saren gave a shake of his head. "Do I even need to point out that this General Florez is a known supporter and backer of Commander Shepard, and was instrumental in her rise to power in the human Systems Alliance? " Saren stepped forward, arms spread, and then half turned to eye the council.

"This is what I see. A Beacon is promised to us, but magically blows up for no reason and the only people who get to see what is on it is a hardline Alliance Commander , who works for a human who despises me. My student is killed under disturbing , mysterious circumstances. Every bit of evidence that links me to the case can't be examined, the eyewitness is killed by an assassin given access to the planet by human admirals who want to see Shepard succeed, and who then conveniently kills herself to avoid further questions. Even this so-called evidence purportedly from the Shadow Broker vanishes into thin air."

Saren folds his arms, the cybernetic left limb gleaming dully. "There is nothing to investigate in this debacle, except of course the real issue , how did the geth find out about the Beacon and get here so quickly, and where did the giant black ship reported come from. Questions not being answered while we waste time on this spirits-be-damned farce of an investigation!"

Tevos spoke up, her voice soft. "Commander...during your assault on the geth forces, did you notice any other aberrations aside from the .. spikes... in your report? Anything else that could support your assertions of Saren's guilt?"

Shepard shook her head. "No, Councilor. Although the spikes were bad enough."

Saren interjected. "Dragon's teeth. We've seen them before, the geth use them for some sort of sick psychological purposes. No one has ever figured out how to make them work...more evidence that this geth attack was about more than the Beacon and needs further investigation." Shepard looked at him again, curiously, before turning back to the council.

Sparatus glared at Shepard. "Given that you have no solid evidence of any kind to implicate our agent, and given that your eyewitness report has zero actual veracity, that his death appears to be orchestrated by elements within your own government, and that, quite frankly, your own investigators appear to be suppressing evidence that points to the truth rather than the story your people have concocted, we cannot in good faith find any reason to hold Saren responsible. C-Sec's investigation found that there were several mercenaries involved in an attack on Shadow Broker elements that had worked for Saren in the past, but these men had worked for many other Spectres in the past as well."

Tevos sighed."Ambassador Udina, we will need to have a private interview with Commander Shepard regarding the Beacon itself. Until then, our findings are final. Saren is cleared of all charges regarding the Eden Prime incident. Until such time as the Alliance can account for irregularities in it's own investigation, we see no reason to prolong these proceedings."

Udina frowned. "But our own investigation is still ongoing! Yours barely lasted a day! What kind of whitewash is this!"

Sparatus gave the ambassador a glare. "Udina, we are not going to allow your people to attempt to make up more false statements and suppress evidence contrary to the facts! It's ridiculous that we even bothered to have this conversation, but we are _attempting_ to be open-minded despite your claims that we have no interest in seeing humanity succeed. None of us wanted Eden Prime to turn out like this. But just because one of your senior officers has a vendetta against our agent does not require us to accept he is somehow guilty!"

Valern nodded to Udina. "This session of the Council is _adjourned_. Have Commander Shepard report to Council Debriefing Room 1 tomorrow morning. We...appreciate she is still wounded and needs time to rest."

Saren smirked, and clapped a hand on Anderson's broad shoulder, who glared hatefully back at the turian. "Try again later, human. Maybe you can try blowing up some more factories and blame it on me, eh?"

Anderson almost lunged, his eyes wide, but Shepard tightly caught his arm. "It's not worth it, sir." Anderson subsided, jaw tight. Shepard turned her gaze to Saren. "I know a criminal when I see one. I don't need evidence, I _know_ what you did. And the next time I meet you, you will die."

The big turian merely walked off, mandibles flaring in amusement. "Your pitiful species will never be ready for the Spectres. Find someone else to annoy." He paused to link arms with a dark-robed asari woman at the bottom of the stairs and strutted off, pausing only to sneer at a passing turian in C-Sec colors.

Udina slumped at the end of the pier, before turning to face Captain Anderson and Shepard. "This … did not go well. It was a mistake bringing you here, Anderson... my mistake, not yours. Your intransigence did not help, of course...but the Council only saw your history with Saren and now actually believes we are trying to frame him. " He signed. "I **told** you this would happen. I told you that what we had wasn't enough."

Anderson continued to watch Saren walk away. "Dammit, we had to do something. I know Saren. I know his agenda, I've seen him work. Every colony we have is in danger, every world could be the next target. I don't care what the Council thinks, Saren is a danger to humanity."

Udina whirled on him. "And you fail to see why the Council won't take us seriously? _Listen to yourself, _Captain. You have **nothing**. We have just had that hurled at us. This isn't some group of pirates you can have your pet maniac stare down." Shepard actually gave a sardonic grin at this, and Udina shuddered. "We clearly have serious internal issue going on with the investigation at Eden Prime. I have to get in touch with Hackett and figure out what in the blue hell is going on there before the Council outright accuses us of trying to frame Saren!"

Anderson tensed, then his broad shoulders sagged, and he nodded. "I... I just don't want what happened 15 years ago to repeat itself. Maybe you're right, Udina. It's hard to let this go."

Shepard glanced at Udina before placing her hand on Anderson's shoulder. "We're not letting it go, sir. We just have to be smart, keep our heads down, and find the evidence we need – solid evidence the Council can't ignore. We can't afford any more .. half-measures."

Udina gave Shepard an appraising look. "Every time I believe I have you pegged, you surprise me, Commander. I must admit, I hardly expected prudent caution from you."

The woman's eyes flickered. "I'll go back to eating babies and head-butting krogan warlords tomorrow, sir."

Udina rolled his eyes, exasperated, and turned to Anderson. "I have things to attend to, Anderson. You heard the Council. Make sure Shepard is here in the morning, and try not to stir up any more trouble until then." He paused. "Officially, the issue is closed. If you can find hard, and I mean HARD , evidence of Saren's guilt, we can use it … otherwise bringing this up again is political suicide. I've already got most of the Senate pushing us to withdraw from Council space altogether, I don't want it to come to that. Find that evidence, Commander." With a last dark look at Anderson, he strode off.

Anderson huffed, and Williams looked confused and angry. "Dammit. Now what do we do?"

Shepard shrugged. "The only thing we can do. Find evidence. They mentioned a C-Sec investi.." She trailed off, eyes narrowing, as raised turian voices flanged across the way. "Who is that?"

Anderson squinted. "Executor Pallin is the dark one...not sure who the other one is." He glanced at Shepard and Williams for a moment, then shrugged. . "Let's see what they're arguing about, then. It may have to do with Saren." They walked down the stairs leading to the lower level of the Council Chambers, as Udina headed off in a different direction, his face set in a scowl.

* * *

On the balcony above, eyes watched Captain Anderson and his team walk down the steps. The room they were in was a private meeting room for high-ranking dignitaries, sealed against ladar-beams, and a jammer hummed away merrily on the table in the middle of the room. The man watching the Captain was dressed to the nines, richly cut jacket opened to reveal a long, patterned silk shirt, crisp dress slacks breaking without cuffs over expensive dress shoes. He was slender, dark, and short, every motion precise, economical.

The other figure was was graying and handsome, his features even, a trail of smoke writhing over his head from his cigarette. His eyes glowed a faint, digital blue in a curious pattern across his iris, and his free hand toyed with a glass of brandy. His own suit was understated, dark green and pale cream, the ever-present tie barely two fingers wide, and loose around the neck.

The room they were in was unadorned, except for the table, a handful of comfortable chairs, the etched symbol of the Citadel Council on the wall. . . and the holopad generating the image of the man with a cigarette.

The leftmost figure smiled, and examined his nails, as if seeking dirt or imperfection. "That was … quite an interesting show. How did you link it to Florez?" The hard, gravelly voice is almost tired. "Not that I miss the bitch. She was always interfering in naval operations."

The other man merely leaned back in his chair, lit cigarette dangling from his free hand for a moment before he took a puff. "Florez is one of ours, of course. The corpse we left in her office is a flash clone...she's been moved to oversee the results of Project Phoenix. It was fairly simply to ensure the drell hit his target. . . being able to throw the investigation into chaos was a bonus." The glowing eyes were confident, cold. He lifted a glass to drink from, and smiled. "Pity I wasn't there to see it in person."

The first man snorted. "The drell killing that fool , or watching the farce below?" He sighed, running manicured hands through his razor-cut hair. "I'm still not sure of the wisdom of this course of action, Jack. A nudge here, a dropped data packet there, and we could expose Saren right now. Wouldn't that help humanity's cause more than protecting Saren?"

A smile crosses the other man's features, who merely takes another drag from his cigarette. "You misunderstand our course, Charles. I fully expect Shepard to find the evidence needed. Our agents report the quarian escaped with one of the Broker's enforcers, and is recovering in a medical facility in the Upper Wards. I'm not protecting Saren, I'm making sure that when this blows up, the resulting witch hunt will be looking for external infiltration, rather than trying to find out the internal issues."

A pause, and he continued. "Just handing over the evidence won't do much, I'm afraid. The bottom line is that the Council can't afford to make Saren a rogue agent without overwhelming evidence. The kind the Shadow Broker has. Building a circumstantial case based on financial records, vague eyewitness reports, shadowy assassins and the like might make them question him, but not fully. The Council's natural reaction to THAT kind of evidence will be to investigate it. And we can't risk them stumbling across Cerberus involvement if it comes to that."

The other man nodded slowly. "I see. You worry that if we use a thousand bits and pieces, it will look like we're framing him. Or that someone is framing him."

The Illusive Man's image nodded. "And that is how we spring the trap. We've cast the entire Alliance investigation into doubt. We've made the Council sure this is only a smear campaign, a frame job, as you put it. And when concrete evidence suddenly arrives, just after the Council was so sure this was just bitter humans trying to get Saren in trouble, they will be mortified. Udina will go on the attack, there, I assure you. And at that time we'll introduce the few remaining bits and pieces. "

The man named Charles nodded again, listening. The hologram smiled, sipping from his drink again. "And then everything else falls by the wayside. Confusion on Eden Prime? Well meaning Alliance officers, trying to cover up the fact that our investigation was a disaster. The drell having a pass? Generate some evidence that Florez was beholden to Saren somehow, maybe blackmail, and the suicide was guilt at what she did. Assassins on the Citadel? A timely payment to the Broker will almost certainly illuminate just how many mercenaries worked for Saren that are still roaming free...every one a potential danger to Citadel security. In their arrogance, the Council will want to control the investigation themselves going forward."

The politician grunted. "In short, make everything such a mess that that the Council assumes Saren his hands..claws...whatever...in everything. Make them put all their eggs in one basket. Send a Spectre to clean up after a Spectre."

The Illusive Man nodded. "Exactly, Charles. "

Charles Saracino scowled, turning away from the balcony to face the hologram. "I just hope this works. So far, nothing else has gone to plan. First you told me we had a chance to control the geth. Then to make a fool of the turians, and in the process, get a council seat and a Spectre of our own. Now I have a destroyed colony, a pissed off Senate, a lot of dead colonists, a suspicious Council, and Alliance investigators running all over the place. Even if this pans out, how does any of this lead to progress for humanity?"

The Illusive Man did not move in his seat, but his chin lifted. "Charles, in this sort of game, patience and misdirection is the key. Right now, we hold all the cards. Giving them to the Council won't win humanity any points. And the goal stands. Once we know how Saren is controlling the geth, and where he got that ship from, our agents will move in and take that knowledge for humanity. Imagine it. Control of an army of battle machines, doing our bidding. Destroying competing alien forces. Clearing out pirates and ensuring human dominance in the Traverse. And the technology of that dreadnaught is beyond anything we've seen before, even in Prothean ruins."

The blue-eyed figure turned, his cigarette almost out. "But in order to maximize our gain, we have to be holding the whip hand. Udina will play along. We've already primed how this will all go down, Charles. When it's done, the Council will have to choose between sending a fleet after Saren, or sending a Spectre. And that Spectre _will_ be Shepard."

Saracino shrugged. "And? What makes you so sure that instead of sending one of their trusted Spectres, they would make Shepard one?"

"Because that will be the price of Alliance silence. Shepard gets the nod, we back down on demanding action and even the treaty adjustments. After that, Shepard will clean up any loose ends for us, leaving us to move in behind and pick up the spoils. She's not a strategic thinker. We can drop hints in her path and lead her by the nose. But as both a symbol and a tool, she's invaluable."

Saracino gives a sigh. "How do you even keep this tangled shit _straight_ in your head? I get where you're going with this, but... "

The Illusive Man extinguished his cigarette, and tilted his head. "Charles, our methods differ, but our goals are in alignment. Right now, doing things in a blunt fashion will only leave Cerberus exposed. And that can't be allowed to happen. If we can cover our own tracks and at the same time have even the slightest chance of humanity getting it's own Spectre, we have to take it. And in that, we have a chance at reshaping the galaxy around humanity's proper place. You just need to have a little faith."

Saracino exhaled sharply. "Alright, alright. What do you need from me?"

The Illusive Man smiled, and drained his drink. "Just for you to give an anonymous tip to a frustrated C-Sec investigator about a quarian he may want to interview. I'll send you the details over HadesNet, and leave it to you to determine when to reveal the information. But only do so after Shepard's meeting with the Council. So far, we have no information on what she got from the Beacon, and we'd like to know."

The hologram nodded it's head, and the room was cast into darkness as it faded. Saracino picked up the jammer disk on the table and put it in his pocket, sighing.


	22. Chapter 16 : Saren

**A/N:** _ I got a few messages about tense and spelling – I'll probably need to pause in the updates to clean a lot of that up. _

_The next chapter is one I deleted before because I couldn't get it right. I hope this is a better effort._

* * *

January 24, 2183

Saren's forced himself to walk calmly, pacing himself, keeping his mandibles in an amused, relaxed position. He nodded his head at the occasional turian , noncommittal, pausing only to adjust the Spectre flash on the shoulder of his hood drape. His walk was arrogant, confident, sheer rolling power and yet the unearthly killing grace in his form some how showed , in the tilt of his head, the cool gaze of his eyes.

Benezia strolled along side him, still linked arm in arm, her face set in a serene, otherworldly expression that somehow went with the wry smile she had on her face. The smile faintly grew with every asari youngster that glared daggers at her as she swished by, her long blue legs flashing in and out of visibility with the slit dress she wore. If he was power, she was elegance and mystery, a black flame flickering to his bonfire.

"I'm trying to keep a straight face, Benezia, and you smirking like a teenaged krogan in an asari harem isn't helping." Saren's voice was both light and strained.

"That was one of the more entertaining scenes I've had the pleasure to witness. Humans burn so brightly, but they don't even see the truth hanging above their heads. They made complete idiots of themselves. . . and for what?"

Saren shrugged. "Anderson hates me because I showed him that galactic politics is the process of relabeling atrocity and calling it justice, and redefining sacrificing the innocent as serving the greater good. He's a shallow and clear drinking pond, upset because people keep splashing mud through it. Fools like him are why the galaxy needs people like me."

He half turned his head, mandibles set in a smirk of his own as yet another asari, clad in leather so tight he could not imagine how she was able to breathe, shot angry looks at the Matriarch on his arm. "But we were talking about that vicious little smile on your face."

Benezia gave a small chuckle. "To be honest, I can't seem to help myself. So many young fools, so sure of their place in the universe, blind to everything around them. . . the suffering, the poor, the dying. . .and yet so angry at the sight of an old woman on your arm. Is there nothing more they can do besides throw themselves at any strong mate that appears?"

He actually laughed, then, a real, clean laugh, the first she had heard from him in what seemed like decades. "Spirits forbid anyone showing up the ever-so-prim and proper matriarch with actual sex appeal." He paused, and then his eyes grew harder. "Not that any of them could deal with the reality that we deal with."

Benezia's smirk faded slightly. "There was a time I was hardly prim or proper. Liara's father was … hardly a cultured influence." Her hand wrapped around his wrist a bit more tightly, as if fearing he would pull away... or that she would fall. "But you are right. I have so little given over to myself in all of .. what we are doing. They don't know what they are jealous of."

The couple walked slowly past the salarian vinthark trees that lined the approach to their private docking bay. Several krogan in blue and silver armor stood guard, long rifles slung, wedge shaped helms in faintly glowing blue trim giving them a look more of statuary than living being. The sealed , heavy outer doors opened, and the two walked into the bay, Saren's gaze going automatically to the small turian frigate he had piloted here from Noveria.

The doors slammed shut behind them, giving them privacy from stares and eavesdroppers. Saren glanced at his omni-tool. "Another hour until refueling is complete." His gaze moved over the fuel lines, the supply crates being on loaded by mechs, checking for dangers, hidden signals, anything that was a threat.

His omni-tool beeped and displayed a green light – nothing lived in the docking bay but Saren and Benezia.

Benezia, on the other hand , seemed lost in thought. "The more I see the people around us, the less I grasp how they can be of any use to those who are coming. My philosophies have always focused on acceptance of every element of all species , just as we do in taking mates. To find the strength and the determination of the turians, the brilliance and moral relativism of the salarians, the dignity and ruthlessness of the hanar..." She trailed off, smiling. "Even the brilliance of the volus with matters financial."

Saren made a slight rumbling noise, his eyes taking on a thoughtful cast. "I'm not sold on that yet. I fail to see humans, vorcha, batarians or the other cockroaches of the galaxy 'contributing' much of anything besides more mouths to feed."

The asari matriarch paused, bringing Saren to a halt. "And that is why it is up to us to _correct_ the imbalance. It was not easy to divert my path to meld with yours, Saren. My teachings were developed over 6 centuries of life, pain, joy, loss...hope...and despair." Her blazing blue eyes darken, as she lifts her face to look at him. "Just as yours has, over a shorter scope. How many have had their plating burned down to where it has to be replaced with hard, cold metal? How many have lost an arm, a lung, skin, blood the way you have?"

Saren exhaled. "I am no longer the handsome young talon I once was when we first met all those years ago, no. I paid for what I am with every scar, every implant. It isn't easy."

Benezia nodded, softly, tracing her fingers along his tortured, artificial mandible. "Pain is never easy to bear, or to wear. We nurture it, using it to drive us or to keep us from challenging ourselves. Some cling to it like mother's milk, others flee from anything that causes it, as if Death is some predator that one can outrun." She shook her head. "If we were doing this out of .. some profit motive, out of some misguided attempt to control others, then we would be wrong. But we're destroying ourselves to try to save.. everything. Or as much as we can."

Saren shuddered, and lowered his forehead to brush the top of her headdress, gently. "There are times the silence is .. too much to bear. The coldness. The … force of the Voice in my mind. I almost lost it in the Council Chambers, with that jumped up criminal thug trying to stare me down. I wanted to plant my talons in her throat, to feel her flense apart and splash the gore over the blind, stupid Council."

Benezia passed her hands over his face, gently. "I , too, sometimes fear the price we are paying is too much. I cannot … feel myself anymore. I am breaking to pieces , sometimes I give orders or direct actions and I don't even feel like it's me doing it."

Saren nodded. "Thanoptis thinks the effect is due to some kind of ultra-low frequency harmonics, combined with the positronic energy field that surrounds the ship itself. It's worse inside than out, the angles of the ship trigger visual .. effects, for lack of a better word, that force organics to put more processing power into sensory interpretation, making the signal work faster."

Benezia frowned. "And thus we are lost."

Saren growled. "No! It needs us intact. Everything we've seen shows the more control it has , the less effective the being controlled becomes. I've explained it to Sovereign. We'll use the frigate as much as we can, now. We have to … be careful."

Benezia nodded, her eyes glancing around the floor as if searching for an anchor. "What now? We have the Beacon, but it's message is garbled garbage. And we know the target is a hidden Prothean world, but we have no clue which, or where. The Conduit is useless without knowing the other end."

Saren sighed, and finally let go of her hand, flexing his talons. "I don't know. I raided over 20 volus merchant ships, looking for the manifests, but every dig site they delivered to is already known to us. We know from the signals the geth intercepted that Exogeni found a massive ruin, and in the ruin they found a being who was sentient from the remains of Protheans it had consumed."

Benezia nodded. "A being like that must be ancient. And powerful."

Saren paced, running a hand along his fringe. "And it would know! Maybe not only how to .. interpret this stupid thing in my head, but how to make the pieces fit. We know only what Sovereign has told us. The rebels sabotaged the Citadel. We need to allow Sovereign to make a direct connection to the tower to override that. And there's no way to ensure he can get in before the Citadel closes besides the Conduit, to take the Citadel by storm, to capture the controls."

His talons flexed. "I just feel as if we're losing our minds , and yet are mired in mud, running in place...no closer to salvation than before. How long before Sovereign decides we aren't making progress ..."

Benezia gently placed a hand on his shoulder, slowing his movement. "Saren. We have made progress. We have the base researching what is happening to us. We have your forces moving to recover my daughter. We at least have some leads to where to look." Her hand shifted to his jaw, turning his face to look at her. "We are not going to fail. We're in this together, no matter what the cost."

He looked at her a long moment, then shook his head. "Maybe we have already failed. Maybe this is .. the wrong way." A shudder passed through him. "No time to talk about it. It's … best , perhaps, given your concerns about the indoctrination, if we split up. You can go back to Noveria..."

Saren pulled back, glancing away. Benezia's hand hung in the air, empty for a moment, before she clenched her fist. Saren's voice was cold. "...I will continue the hunt for the creature."

Benezia's knuckles popped with the tension in her fists as she leaned forward, her voice loud. "Damn you, let me in! You can't just keep _hiding_ from it!"

Saren roared, eyes wide as he spun on his heel to put his face an inch from hers, the metallic scent of his skin flowing over her. "Let you in so you can go crazy like me? Spirits, I have done all I could!"

Benezia's voice shattered, the calm matriarch gone, eyes streaming with sudden, hot tears. "You think I don't see? I see you thrashing in your sleep, slashing your own body with your claws as if you are fighting yourself! I see you trail off in conversation, eyes dead and filled with pain. I saw you have to murder the only other friend you ever HAD, a boy you nearly had to raise. Nihlus was closer to you than Liara is to me! Don't LIE to me, Saren! I know you want to do everything yourself but you CAN'T."

Saren screamed back, his fringe flared. "And I'm expected to drag you with me? What do you want me to say, Bee? Am I supposed to trot out some fucking romantic lines about how much you mean to me? You should already know."

He leaned closer, until they were nearly nose to nose, the heat radiating off of him. "I remember _every _single time we've unioned, all 193 of them. They are ALL that keeps me from turning into a slavering animal, a feral tajak on two feet. You are all that stops me from going into a red rage like I did on Eden Prime, killing humans with my talons like some kind of lunatic."

Benezia grabbed his arm. "Then why won't you just let the fear go! You try to pretend you are alright, but every time join it's like battering my way past walls! You only have me to share this with, and the more you try to pretend you are okay, the more tortured you become! It's wrecking you! This is all we HAVE, Saren. There isn't any other way."

Saren shook his head. "And what if I'm wrong!"

Benezia only met his gaze, tears down her cheeks. "Then we'll die together, at least, and I can know you actually care, and I'm not just some mental bandage for you. " She wiped away tears, the moisture not adhering to the patterned blackness of her dress sleeve. "I am just as scared as you are, but I trust in you more than anything."

Saren's voice had dropped to a whisper. "We could end up as slaves. We could be betraying all life."

Benezia's teeth ground together. "No. We've seen the truth these fools never would. Even if by some miracle we killed Sovereign … "Her face contorted in pain at the thought, but she clenched her jaw savagely and continued "...we know the others in dark space would still come, be it 5 years or 50. We have seen the Collectors, we know the Protheans were spared. Sovereign says the keepers were sentient until the Prothean rebels sabotaged them with their retrovirus, stripping them of their minds to stop them from fixing the damage to the Citadel."

She placed on finger on his cheek, tracing the pointed, artificial attachment point for his cybernetic mandible. "We know it can be done. We have to try, Saren. If we don't, if they kill everything, there is no second chance. But if we survive...even if we are slaves...it might not be our children, or their children...but where there is life, there is a way. It might take a thousand, thousand years, but we can learn from their technology and learn their weaknesses and eventually overcome. But we'll all be dead if we can't prove our worth now."

Saren gave a long, shuddering breath. "I just … hold out .. I feel the Voice in my mind and I wonder if it's changing how I think. How we think. I _assaulted_ you, dammit."

Benezia's voice snapped like iron, unyielding. "And I _enjoyed _it. I am here. I don't care if I have to murder or torture. I don't care if you flay my body. I've risked everything for you. My life. My reputation. My followers. All my wealth and influence. My body. My mind. My own daughter. I've given you everything I am. All I ask is you don't … do this alone. Don't … make me give up my soul just to break it so you don't have to worry about me."

"I..." The flanged voice fell silent, unable to speak for a long moment. "I .. could never break you. I don't have a soul any more, just you to take it's place."

A long, silent moment passed, Benezia looking up to him, her face tired and weary, once clear blue eyes reddened with pain and fear. Saren traced her jaw with a single shaking talon, then nodded.

Her head rested against his chest, the cool metal of his armor stanching the fear in her chest, and the two forms in black stood a long time under the dim lights of the docking bay as the mechs blindly serviced their vessel, unmoving in their shared pain.


	23. Chapter 17 : Garrus , Recruited

**A/N:** _ Aaaand this is the other deleted chapter. Unlike the last one, I rewrote this one almost entirely from scratch. _

_I really should time stamp these. This bit begins just prior to the scene with the Council and Anderson, continues through it, and picks up where it left off. Confusing enough?_

_Also, Garrus! _

* * *

January 24, 2183

Garrus slammed the C-Sec aircar to an abrupt stop in the reserved parking area of the Citadel Tower access pad. He was running late, and he could only hope that for once the good spirits would deign to listen to his pleas and convince Pallin to listen to him.

The Citadel Tower jutted out of the Presidium Ring like some obscene phallic device, all smooth arches and angles suddenly becoming nothing but a half-mile pillar of solid armored steel. Mass effect bubbles and implanted turrets with barrels inches wide studded it's gleaming white surface, while the thousands of tiny flags that trailed limply down it's front were from every nation, city state, clan, tribe and division in Council space. _God only knows how many thousands more the humans will add if they ever get a seat_.

Garrus hustled past security using the C-Sec entrance, and caught the elevator just before it closed. A pair of asari were in the car with him, slender frames not very concealed by skin tight, shoulder-less dresses. Garrus gave an inner sigh, and immediately pulled up his omni-tool. He had **zero** problems with nice young asari cooing over his angular features in the bar, but he had to keep a clear head for the meeting and the last thing he needed was giggling blue seduction messing his mind up right now.

Thankfully, the two asari were gossiping instead about some human female that had just gone into the Citadel tower, their breathy little squees of excitement making his mandibles twitch in amusement. _Sorry, girls, but most human females only go for human males. Just because they look like you doesn't mean they'll sleep with anything like you._

Garrus finished pulling up the financial records Forlan had pulled up. Saren had to be dirty, but his tracks were so convoluted that there was no way to prove it without the Council giving him authority to have the banks freeze transactions. Right now, while the money trail was .. jumbled and somewhat suspicious, it alone wouldn't convict a vorcha of being stupid, much less Saren of attacking Eden Prime.

The turian sighed, covering the pertinent facts in his head, as if presenting his case to the Council.

First, the mercenaries hired to go after the drell, Captain Troyas, had both worked for Saren. Not once, but dozens of times, repeatedly for the past 15 or so years. They always worked as a team and they did nothing but wetwork. While he couldn't prove the payment to the Weryloc krogan wasn't hacked, he did find one eyewitness who said the two krogan had met with a regal looking asari woman matching the description of Lady Benezia the week prior. Granted, his testimony was more about the size of the matriarch's chest than anything else, the fact that she had met with the krogan at all was too suspicious to pass up. Saren might have been able to play off a relationship with such crude thugs, but Lady Benezia was an asari philosopher and businesswoman. Notwithstanding her long relationship with the Spectre, she simply had no business talking to a pair of murderers.

Second, the docking manifests as transmitted by the Novarian Port Authority. They certainly seemed to be inline, and an independent news report did place Saren on the planet . Synthetic Insights stock dropped on the fact that their Noverian lab facility was under "investigative lock down". There were even witnesses who spoke of seeing Saren, and of course, Benezia's own testimony. But like all badly packaged meat, a single touch of the talon separated truth from third-rate packaging. While several eyewitnesses claimed to have seen Saren, none could say they spoke with him. Given the fact that Saren's armor was pretty unusual, that didn't seem too suspicious at first. But all of the eyewitnesses were recent layoffs from Noverian businesses, slowly losing ground on their overpriced apartments while they looked for work. In the hours after their testimony, all six of them had found work. And that work had all been with one company.

Binary Helix.

Which was pretty much dominated by Saren and Benezia, with a 42% ownership stake by Saren and 39% by Benezia. Oh, he could hear Pallin now, damning him for leaping to conclusions, but Garrus knew something was rotten. Despite Benezia stating she had been with Saren on Noveria and thus he couldn't have been elsewhere, and despite eyewitnesses seeing Saren, no one at all reported seeing the statuesque matriarch until almost a day after the attack. Given that she stood out in a crowd, was usually found on Saren's arm or in his wake, and that she tended to be flanked with high-powered asari commandos as bodyguards, the idea that she was conspicuously absent was preposterous.

Garrus exited the elevator in a rush, ignoring the two asari who had stopped gossiping to whisper behind slender hands, eyes boldly going over his own form. He twitched a mandible in suppressed amusement, but continued his rapid review of data, pulling up a report here, adjusting a statement there.

_Such a damned burden looking as good as I do. _

His final and most damning evidence, however, he still had to follow up on. Several workers in the Bechjet Lower Wards reported a firefight near the Upper Wards entrance that lead to the space-side docking ring. The very same docking ring that the Sullen Cloud, the drell's ship, had docked to. The few bystanders who had reported weapons fire in the docking ring had reported a young quarian female fleeing the area , wounded. Fragmentary C-Sec reports spoke of a cull of migrant and transitory quarians earlier that day in the same area, with a girl meeting the description "let go" to one of "Fist's thugs". And almost half an hour later, a witness working salvage on Keeper repair sites near the old metalling plant placed a known Broker agent, one Urdnot Wrex, at the lower wards with a female quarian, headed to the Upper Wards, both wounded.

The dots were not in a line, but they connected. Somehow, this unnamed quarian had escaped the battle between Raik Bole and Captain Troyce. She had something that convinced a Broker merc, not known for their charity, to rescue her from pursuit, in the process killing Weryloc Shan. Who then … apparently delivered her to Fist, a known Broker associate. At least, that is what he had thought.

Garrus had just come from Chora's Den, though, and found nothing. Not a witness that had seen or heard of any quarians. And Fist himself had been singularly … confusing. The human thug had seemed very interested in any information about the quarian the C-Sec officer had, and even offered to pay him for her whereabouts, an offer that was put forth as 'appreciation' and not a bribe. Garrus sneered at the memory. As dirty as Fist was – his naked asari girls stank of red sand and worse – he wasn't about to beat up or arrest a Shadow Broker operative.

_There's not following rules, and then there is begging for a bullet in the fringe. _

Garrus knew if he found the quarian, he could finally begin to have a solid, unbreakable piece of evidence against Saren. The very concept that one of his own kind, gifted with the highest trust not just of the Hierarchy but of every race in Council space, could murder another turian, collude with the geth... it made Garrus's eyes burn in hate.

Garrus burst into the lower plaza of the Council chambers, almost running directly into Sparatus and Pallin. "Ah, Detective. How kind of you to join us. The humans will be here in about ten minutes, and we need to be able to refute their claims firmly."

Garrus's eyes flicked in confusion from Pallen to the smooth-talking Councilor. "I have..not finished my investigation, Councilor. I came to make my findings thus far known, and ask for more time to finish the investigation. The financial aspects are very convoluted and my partner Forlan feels that we need to get authority for an asset freeze and audit."

Pallin was uncharacteristically quiet, his mandibles so tight against his jaw Garrus thought they would snap. His stance was pure Hierarchy military, back straight, cowl a perfect 45 degrees to the floor, spurs lined up against each other. He wore heavy gloves, concealing any twitching of his talons.

_This is not good._

Sparatus put a hand on his hip, scowling, his jaw loose. "I see. And what strong evidence to you have to present to take such a prejudicial course of action."

Garrus was speechless. "Councilor, we have quite a bit of evidence that, while not a solid indicator of guilt, is very indicative that something is wrong."

Pallin finally spoke. "The Council has come to the conclusion, based on … various evidence discovered by STG teams...that the humans are framing Saren. Saren forwarded a report showing human officers told to ignore evidence that showed Saren's non involvement. Councilor Sparatus plans to have Saren arrive mid-testimony to drop this bombshell and see if the Alliance Military Command is completely corrupt or if this was localized sloppiness."

Sparatus nods. "In any event, it's clear to me that if Saren was involved, there should be at least something solid on him."

Garrus shook his head. "Councilor...please. What I have is .. well, the Executor would say it's conjecture at best. We have disturbing coincidences and lack of facts that can be simply explained away. And I'm fairly certain that the Broker obtained vital evidence we have yet to see."

Sparatus placed a hand on Garrus shoulder. "Detective. I … appreciate your fire and honesty in this endeavor. Executor Pallin didn't want to give you this case, but I'm glad to see his worries about you taking it seriously or having the skills to pursue it were wrong. You can forward me your findings, and I promise you , on the spirits of my clan, I'll research them. But right now, can you look me in the eye and say you're 100% sure Saren is behind this?"

Garrus clicked his mandibles in frustration. "I just need more time! I know the proof is there!"

Sparatus shook his head. "We're dealing with the possibility that human intelligence assets have been planting or altering evidence, Detective. This time tomorrow, they'll have reacted to everything we've shot holes in today to make it all more plausible." His voiced gentled. "Saren likes to play loose and fast with rules, and I don't doubt you found some things that are probably not 100% on the mark. My own guess is that he was doing something he shouldn't have been – not at Eden Prime, mind you, but somewhere else, in the course of his investigation into human AI. I think he probably did something shady with his supposed alibi at Noveria, and I plan to confront him on it. Privately."

The councilor straightened. "But I've been doing my job for over 20 years now, and I've known Saren longer than that. The anguish and pain in his eyes when I told him about Nihlus's death was real. He almost came unhinged. If he is playing fast and loose with the rules, it's only a reaction to this frame-up the humans are putting on him."

Garrus shook his head. "Sir...Lady Benezia met with the krogan assassins a week before the murder of Captain Troyce. I have a very solid eye-witness to that. Whatever evidence the Broker procured must be very damaging..."

Pallin shook his head. "I called up Fist this afternoon...apparently, just after you had a little chat with him. He is under the impression that the information he was expecting to receive had something to do with Saren's finances being...irregular in regards to his investments in Binary Helix. He may be abusing his position to acquire a controlling interest for his own financial gain. It is possible Benezia is wrapped up in this as well. And it's … more than likely, really, that the human government , which is dominated by corporate interests, is simply taking hasty advantage of this Eden Prime attack to try to smear Saren's name."

Garrus looked at the two turians in bewilderment. "That doesn't even make any sense! Something that large would have taken time to set up-"

Sparatus glanced at Pallin. "And the humans spearheading this effort have been enemies of Saren for 15 years. I don't have time to brief you on everything, you can watch for yourself. " Sparatus brushed lint from his robe, and gazed at Garrus coolly. "Your request for an extension to this investigation is denied, Detective. This case is closed. If you will excuse me, the humans will be arriving shortly."

Sparatus stalked off, robe flowing around him, and Pallin just gave Garrus a pitying look. "Follow me, kid."

Garrus didn't even argue, following his superior to an overlook of the main council floor. He watched as the human councilor, a rough-edged figure with an apparent love of screaming histrionics, berated the Council and demanded action.

He watched the three humans enter the upper foyer , taking in their shapes and sizes. Pallin gestured to the female in the middle. "That's Commander Shepard. Before this afternoon, the idea was for you to aid her in the investigation. With this recent … discovery, however... we've been ordered off the case. Officially. STG is handling any followup."

Garrus snapped his head to one side, glaring. "And you just let them walk over you like that? Where is your damned angry demands that we do it by the book? Damn the spirits, I did everything right, and all I asked for is another day!"

Pallin shrugged, seemingly … exhausted. Or broken. "I already had this fight with the Councilor, Garrus. It was made clear to me that if I continued, they would dismiss me, you, and anyone else who failed to fall in line. This is no longer about justice. It's about politics. It's about stopping the humans from getting a seat, about putting them in their place and making fools of them. They could have done this in a private session..." he trails off as Saren enters, cocksure and bold, draped in melodramatic black with his badge of office high on one shoulder. Pallin's talons clench the railing in front of him in suppressed rage, then he exhales. "Expediency wins...the truth loses."

Garrus could only watch as Saren twisted the human concerns into a farce, as if he was the aggrieved party. Down on the lower balcony, Garrus recognized the cloaked form of Lady Benezia, leaning serenely against one of the bizarre pink-furred human plants, her face smirking in obvious amusement as the humans floundered and the crowds watching murmured and gestured.

Garrus felt sick, as if his gizzard was full of wet stones. The burning energy he had felt all day long drained away in a single , pained sigh. Pallin looked over, and shook his head. "I never like the way you do things, Vakarian. Too rash. Too quick. Too sloppy. But I admit there are times where just shoving a pistol in someone's fringe and pulling the trigger would be more just than this... debacle."

Garrus nodded, a tiny spark of outraged satisfaction burning in his chest. He watched the obviously dejected humans leave the platform, the ambassador clearly broken and running, the dark human male with the stripes on his uniform seemingly defeated, and the large, heavier human female looking angry.

Only Shepard walked away calmly. Every movement measured, cold but somehow full of restrained energy. He scratched a talon over his fringe as Pallin turned to go, heading down the narrow stairwell to the elevators. "Executor...wait."

Pallin stopped, and turned. "Let it go, Garrus. They've closed the case. I have no wish to enact pitiful scenes from Blasto , bemoaning the fact that stupid politics is the winner of the field of battle. "

Garrus glared, stepping into his superior's face, deliberately trying to get an instinctual rise out of him. "Is that it? All these years of wise posturing and angry yelling at me to do it right. All those spirit-damned speeches about the fucking purity of justice. All the people who died because you weren't willing to break the rules and get it done. Now you're just going to let that barefaced bastard walk out of here with his whore of an asari, when you KNOW full well he's dirty? When you know he might very well be behind it!"

Pallin finally snapped, his talons shearing right through his gloves, teeth bared. "What am I do then, you idiot child? I don't have a famous father to cover for me. If you're wrong, I lose my job. C-Sec is my LIFE. I follow ORDERS. I am a TURIAN! I have been given a task and I do it! I don't question! I don't break the law to stop crime! And if you are right, what then? I end up with a bullet in my head? I wake up tomorrow to find they've killed you? No, Garrus." He jabbed his talons into the younger turian's armor, hard enough to chip the glossy black paint. "Some of us are not willing to destroy everything on a wild hunch from a spoiled kid who thinks justice is shooting bad guys with over-powered guns. It's patience. It's doing things right, regardless of your personal opinion. And above all else, it's not assuming someone's guilty until it's proven to be the case."

Pallin spun on a heel, and stormed off, not looking to see if he was followed. Garrus just stood there, eyes closed, head down, wondering what to do next."

"Detective?"

The voice was .. cold. Even. No harmonics to give him a clue of anger or friendship. It was almost soothing in a way. Garrus turned, eyes opening, and faced the speaker.

Up close, Shepard was almost soft looking at first glance. Her skin was dark, almost brown, and set in firm, hard angles. Like all humans she had features almost identical to asari, but her eyes were a cold blue that , strangely enough, reminded him of his father. Hard, unyielding, icy, yet somewhere behind them lurked madness and anger. "Yes. I am, that is. Detective Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec Special Investigative Unit."

"Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy. I … overheard some of that argument you had with your superior. You were investigating Saren?"

Garrus nodded, exhaling. "Was being the operative term. I have bits of evidence that don't look good, but the ugly truth is I need another day or two and the Council has shut the case down and given it to the STG. If there's anything to find, it will be so classified and locked down that we'll never hear about it, and that bastard will walk free."

The light-skinned human female to the left spoke , her voice rougher but higher pitched. "Isn't it kinda .. odd .. for a turian to want to nail Saren? Isn't he like, a hero for turians?"

Garrus eyed the woman coldly, his jaw set. "Imagine how you would feel if you discovered evidence , no matter how … patchy … that your Hero of Elysium was actually selling children to batarian slavers, but that no one wanted to expose it for political reasons. Would YOU be happy? I'm not. I feel defiled. He's a disgrace, both to the Hierarchy and to the Council."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "That's nice. But what are you going to do about it."

Garrus shook his head. "I can't touch him, he's a Spectre, he's got immunity to everything , and everything he touches is classified. The case has been .. closed."

She shook her head, the weird floppy fringe thing all humans had moving with the motion, the faint light of the Council chamber catching on edges in the mass. "Fuck that. I didn't ask what C-Sec was going to do. I asked what YOU were going to do. Run away clucking like the chicken you look like?"

Her voice hardened. "He's going to get away. He's going to do _something_ even worse, people are going to _die_, and unless someone stops him, it's going to be on your conscious. He's a fucking criminal."

Garrus looked away, conflicted. "Yeah, I know."

She spoke again, voice even harder. "I _hate _criminals." And Garrus realized, belatedly and suddenly, that here was someone much like him. Someone for who rules were a boundary and not a guideline, someone who had been hurt to the point where it mattered more about vengeance than justice, for whom the only judge, jury and executioner needed was common sense.

Garrus squared himself upright, jaw clacking with amusement, and cocked his head to look at her. "Assuming I was some kind of paramilitary badass with a grudge rather than a respectable C-sec officer... then what I would do is try to find a quarian that went missing yesterday. A quarian that I'm sure had something to do with the Shadow Broker and some evidence linking Saren to Eden Prime. " He folded his arms, mandibles cocked to one side in a smirk , and fixed his eyes on hers. "But alas, I don't seem to have any terrifying Special Forces solders to back me up when I go looking for my first lead."

Shepard actually gave a tiny little smile. "And _are _you a paramilitary badass with a grudge, or do you just like to look good?"

_Goddamn, Vakarian, even the crazy bitches can't get enough of you. _Mandibles flaring in amusement, Garrus raised his plates above his eyes. "I _always _look good."

Shepard said nothing , but Williams gave an astoundingly juvenile giggle before stifling it. "Um...sorry ma'am."

Shepard tilted her head to match the tilt of Garrus. "Can you follow orders, Vakarian? And don't hand me that 'me-turian-me-good-soldier' zombie bullshit."

Garrus laughed, for the first time all day. "No, I'm a really, really bad turian. I find, to the distress of my father and superiors, that I can only follow orders that aren't completely full of shit."

Shepard nodded. "That will do. Where's this lead of yours, Detective?" They began walking to the elevator bank at the end of the plaza, Shepard leading.

"Right now, I suspect he's head-butting some poor C-Sec officer in receiving. His name is Urdnot Wrex." Shepard opened her mouth to speak, shut it, then opened it again. "Wait. Large, old, angry krogan, scars on the face, red armor, likes to threaten to eat things?"

Garrus nodded, as Anderson and Williams glanced at Shepard in confusion. "Yeah, that's him. You know him?"

Shepard grimaced. "Yeah, fought him on Torfan, actually. This should be interesting. Lead on, Detective."

Garrus felt oddly .. better, knowing he was at least doing something and not just giving up like Pallin did. "No problem, Commander. New to the Citadel? You'll _love_ the Lower Wards."


	24. Chapter 18 : Doctor Michele

January 24, 2183

If the Presidium was a glorious testament to just how well aliens could mimic mankind's ability to use wealth and privilege to blind themselves to the suffering of their fellow man, then the Lower Wards were the alien take on a mix of the ghetto, third world countries, and post-industrialism.

Garrus drove a patrol aircar to C-Sec headquarters, Alenko and Shepard in the back. She looked out the angular window down upon the gleaming light of the Upper Wards, slowly growing dimmer and darker towards the end of the Ward, where it hooked into the ring itself. At it's terminus, the aircar angled up sharply, and the battered, grimy buildings of the Lower Ward could be seen. _That could be the arcology, full of lives fucked over and out. _

Part of her wished Anderson was still here. But Anderson had to make reports to Alliance Command, and felt that the Council would look at evidence with a more even view if he wasn't involved in the process at all. Williams was, in Shepard's mind, a good soldier, but far too emotional, and in any event was still badly wounded, and not exactly in any shape to be doing an investigation. Shepard had thus decided to drop her off as well, so she could recuperate in the medbay.

She had expected the fiery soldier to object, but Williams, surprisingly enough, had acquiesced, leaving Shepard , Alenko, and the turian to head onwards. But the conversation stuck with her, replaying in her mind as she gazed as the detritus of the Lower Wards.

* * *

"_Not that I'm not wanting to guard your six, skipper, but I'm still pretty shot up." The turian was outside the Normandy, going through some kind of reports, and Williams had followed Shepard back to the medbay. _

_Shepard had raised an eyebrow. "Skipper?" Williams actually looked embarrassed, studying her dress BDU boots. "Um, got in the habit of calling the CO that in the 212. Ended up calling the LT that a lot, since he did more work than the CO did,ma'am." At mentioning the 212, the younger woman's open , simple features had crumpled. _

_Shepard had paused, and finally frowned. She felt absolutely useless at dealing with these kind of issues, but this wasn't a 2000+ unit where she could brusquely suggest someone hurting go talk to the psych officer. This was a crew of 50, and she was expected to be the open, accessible face of command, the one you talked to because you couldn't talk to the CO. _

_Shepard tried to think about all the times Anderson, or Delacor, had to comfort people, and finally tossed all that aside. "Williams, look at me." The younger woman looked up. "I'm not any good at comforting people in their loss. I don't feel it. If there is anything like that in me somewhere inside, it's buried under so much crap that just reaching for it means I have to relieve all the pain it's under. I've never been able to do that. I told you that day you had to get past it because it's all I've known."_

_Shepard paused. "But you aren't me, and the 212 isn't the 2 RRU. What happened on Eden Prime was stupid, and you just told me your LT was really pulling the weight rather than the CO , XO, or BDO. They got sloppy. That BC of the 410 got sloppy and lazy. And a lot of good soldiers died due to that."_

_Shepard remembered how Joker touched her hand, and did the same to Williams. Her own memories bubbled up, a thousand widows and broken mothers glaring at her hatefully from the amphitheater of memory, but this was a mission , for her crew, and she wasn't going to fucking fail it. "But that has nothing to do with you. You're one of the best soldiers I've seen, and you should know I don't bullshit or patronize people. "_

_William's eyes had gone wide with shock but Shepard continued. "If I was harsh it's because I don't want you ending up a … thing... like me, so filled up with hate and anger that you can't do anything but lash out. The pain will **not** make you better. Let it go now, clinging to it won't bring them back. They died. They died hard, Williams, they died fighting and for their families, and above all else they died fucking Marines. You can't cry on the battlefield, but this isn't the battlefield. They died, and you lived, and you lived not because you ran away , or weren't good enough, or whatever bullshit you're telling yourself right now. They died and you lived because of sheer, dumb, stupid luck, and because you fought your ass off."_

_Williams was trembling, shaking, jaw almost quivering "But I .. I couldn't even save Nirali...I just let her … fry in front o-of m-meee..."_

_Shepard grabbed the chief's shoulder. "Is that why you have burns all over your armor down one side, why both your arms and half your face is burned? You tried to shield her with your own body. Your friend, Nirali – she died because of the geth. Hate them. Use that hate when we fight them. But don't hate yourself." Shepard remembered words from Anderson, words that seemed to fit here. "Nirali would be happy you lived. She wouldn't want you hating yourself. She would want you to remember her as your friend, to remember all the good things you did together, not to remember her as a failure and a reason to despise...yourself.."_

_The woman across from her had just come to pieces then, sobbing, and nearly falling to her knees. Shepard had caught her, holding her , not knowing what to do. Sobs wracked Williams' body, shaking her muscled arms like tidal waves slamming into a fragile ship. _

"_You're my crew, Williams. I don't let anyone hurt the people who have my six. And I promise you, we'll get the motherfucker that did this, and kick his stupid, pointy fucking face until it shatters, just the way he did Nihlus."_

_Williams managed to nod, still hanging on as if her whole body had given out. Shepard looked around, as if for what to do. Outside the med-bay window she saw Chakwas, watching them both with a look of both sympathy and bafflement in her eyes. Shepard raised an eyebrow, and Chakwas nodded._

_A moment later she entered, and Williams made an effort to pull herself together. "None of that, Chief Williams." Chakwas placed a gentle, almost hesitant hand on the younger woman's shoulder, and her voice was … motherly, almost. "Every soldier needs to just let it all out, sometimes. "_

_Shepard swallowed. "Williams needs some more time to .. .recover. We're going into what might be combat."_

_Chakwas nodded, moving the chief to a med-bay bed. "Understood, commander. You should not stress the leg or the hand, either, especially the latter. The regenerator and medigel and skinspray has everything covered up, but the bones and tendons are still weak."_

_Shepard nodded, coming to her feet, and walked towards the door, but stopped. "Williams?"_

_The voice that responded was quieter now, calmer. "Yes, ma'am?"_

"_...when I .. get back, I'll come up and talk. If you need that. Even if I'm no good at it."_

_Williams gave a wan smile, and then made an effort to straighten. "You told me what I needed to hear, ma'am."_

* * *

"Commander?"

Shepard started, glancing around the aircar. "Sorry, going over some things in my mind, Lieutenant."

Alenko just nodded, his even, clean features showing only understanding. "I think we all do that sometimes, Commander. Didn't mean to break into your ruminations, but..."

He gestured out the window, as the shuttle touched down, Garrus's deft piloting bringing it down in a rumble of air and pads. "This is C-Sec? It looks like a damned fortress!" The building was an ugly, armored cylender, connecting the hinge that the wards all sat on to the inner ring of the Presidium. It was supported by thousands of trusses and what looked like an entire armored division of armed air-cars and gunships were perched on vast airfields next to the building proper.

Garrus chuckled, the sound a harmonic rumbling mixed with more normal laughing noises. "In the original setup of the Citadel, back when the asari and salarians were the only ones here, this was the only access to the Citadel Towers that ran directly, and to the inner secure docks, like the ones they put your ship in. When my people showed up, the place was used as a welcoming facility for newcomers. We turned it into a defensive location to protect the Tower, and later on, it was the natural place for C-Sec to operate from."

The three stepped out of the car, Garrus leading. "We'll have to be quick about this. Technically, the case is closed, and if Pallin catches wind of what I'm doing, he'll have to stop me. He didn't seem...happy...about what was going down, but I don't know that I blame him for not taking a stand."

Alenko nodded. "The law has to be obeyed, the rules are there for a reason." Garrus frowned, about to respond, when Shepard laughed. "Really, LT? Let me tell you about laws. Criminals don't respect the law, and they don't respect the idea that hurting others to get what they want is bad. That goes for a white-collar bank executive screwing his shareholders all the way down to some two-bit batarian filth who sells kids. It's the same mindset, screw the rules, I have power. But clinging to the rules won't stop some people."

Alenko frowned. "Without rules, without order, you have anarchy. Being a vigilante isn't promoting justice and ignoring governments means you are second guessing those with a wider viewpoint and information you don't always have."

Shepard nodded, but her expression was cold. "Sure, in theory. In reality? You have anarchy in the Verge, in the Expanse, in the Terminus anyway. The precious order we have in Council space can be shattered at will by pirates, plagues, corporate fuckery...and clinging to laws often won't catch these people until their harm is done. What good does it do to arrest a slaver after he's captured 10,000 people and sold them when you could just blow his head off before hand and save them? I don't ever break laws, Alenko. I think you know that. But that is a choice I made. If I had to break the law to save the innocent, I'd do so. If I had to break it to save one of my crew, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Alenko was still frowning. "I understand what you're saying, Commander...I'm just the kind of person who follows rules... I guess instinctively."

Garrus gave a wry smile. "Lieutenant, I think you would make a very good turian."

Alenko scratched his head. "Thank you. Uh, I think."

Garrus laughed. "But you should listen to your commander on this. I've been working C-Sec cases for over a decade now. I've seen .. monsters let go due to red tape and regulations and rules that are supposed to protect the public and end up being abused to protect the criminals and politicians."

Garrus exhales, pushing open the main doors to C-Sec, and the two humans follow him in, taking in the huge lobby area. "That being said , I follow the rules right up to the point where they get in the way of me taking the shot, then I throw them out. It hasn't won me a lot of friends...but I suspect I sleep better at night than my boss does."

Garrus turned down a narrow, blue lit corridor, nodding at two blue-clothed salarians who stood with folded arms listening to a third salarian explaining why he was doing something to the Keepers. They swept past a long line of glass fronted offices, including one that read "Vakarian, G, Special Operations" in white frosted letters and three languages , into a second foyer area, this one having large, heavy staircases that led into the Lower Wards proper.

At the head of the staircase were six C-Sec officers, 3 of them with drawn weapons, two more with hands on omni-tools. In the center of the semi-circle they formed was a single , huge form, red armor streaked with battle damage, driblets of orange blood seeping through craters the size of a baseball. The globular red eyes, slitted with black, were narrowed, and the scarred muzzle was twisted into a mocking, menacing grin, displaying far too many teeth the size of a human thumb.

"This is your last damn warning , Wrex. Firefights are not acceptable in the Upper Wards."

The krogan leaned forward slightly, his jutting jaw in the turian's face. "I don't take orders from pyjak droppings like you. If you're gonna warn someone, warn two bit mercs not to mess with me."

The turian C-sec officer stood his ground, although his mandibles flared in alarm. Glancing around at the officers at his back, he stepped forward. "Are we going to have to arrest you, Wrex?"

Wrex jerked his head forward in a series of movement, backing the officer up, looming over him, his voice a low , menacing rumble. "I want you to _try."_

Garrus gave a small chuckle of amusement. "Dantrian, I'll take it from here."

The turian officer glanced over at Vakarian and the humans behind him with a mix of relief, embarrassment, and confusion, but his voice was clear. "Understood, sir. Wrex was seen engaging in a firefight not far from the south end of Bechjet Upper, and we brought him in after he killed – admittedly in self-defense – another krogan merc."

Garrus nodded, but waved a hand. "I'll handle it, Sergeant. That will be all."

Slowly, the knot of C-Sec officers moved away. Alenko nudged Garrus's arm. "Um...Detective?" He pointed to Wrex...and Shepard, who had stalked forward to get right up in the giant krogan's face, glaring.

The krogan growled, hand dropping to his side, near the handle of the massive shotgun C-Sec had not quite built up the nerve to try to confiscate. Shepard's hand already rested on the butt of her Predator, fingers tapping the base. The two stared at each other for long seconds.

"Um...Commander?"

Shepard tilted her head, ignoring Garrus, and finally exhaled.

"Wrex."

The krogan stepped back one small pace, eyes finally taking in Garrus and Alenko, before snapping back to the woman in front of him.

"Shepard."

Alekno goggled. "Wait, you know each other?"

The krogan grumbled. "Crazy bitch dropped a building on me on Torfan."

Shepard folded her arms, leaning back on her good leg, which resulted in her cocking her hip out in an almost arrogant stance, smirking. "If you don't want buildings to drop on you, don't go trying to drop artillery strikes on my position. Besides, you look just fine."

The krogan leaned down further. "You shot up my squad, dropped a building on me, and then shot them to pieces right in front of me."

Shepard shrugged. "Well, shit, I guess you using them as bait to draw out my own squad and then dropping artillery on us both was just bad aim on your part?"

The two stared at each other for another long moment, then the krogan gave a great, roaring laugh, shaking his entire frame. "Why is it all you squishy races have women with bigger quads than the men?"

Shepard unfolded her arms. "I would never though to say it's good to see you, but it actually is."

The krogan nodded. "First human I ever met who could fight me to a standstill. I don't apologize for that contract, but … I drew the line at what they did to civilians. That's why I ended up turning on my own men. There isn't very much I won't do for money, but killing kids... is a sore spot with krogan."

Shepard nodded, looking grim and suddenly almost .. tired. "Yeah, well. You saw how that shit ended. Fucking Star of Terra."

Alenko glanced at Garrus, then cleared his throat."Commander?"

Shepard waved a vague hand at Garrus and Alenko. "This is Detective Vakarian, and the human next to him is Lieutenant Alenko, a member of my crew." She faintly emphasized the last word, and the krogan nodded. He only glanced at the detective, but stepped forward to inspect Alenko closer. "Huh. Doesn't look like much, but she only calls people crew if they're hard as nails."

Alenko blinked, not sure whether to feel complemented or .. confused.

Shepard continued. "I didn't come by to see you make C-Sec officers piss themselves. Or whatever it is turians do..."

Garrus gave her a look, then just shook his head. Shepard gave a very slight smile. "...but to ask for your help." She exhaled. "You up on what happened on Eden Prime?"

The krogan nodded. "Saw the video and interviews in Flux. Hard to believe geth would strike this far from the Veil, but who can understand things that go around with spotlights for heads?"

Shepard actually chuckled. Alenko remembered the last time Shepard had laughed was when facing down 70 plus geth with an Avenger assault rifle. She seemed less..stiff around aliens, as if they were easier to deal with than people. _And for someone as damaged as her, maybe they are. Maybe Joker is right .. but it's hard enough to figure out what sets her off and what makes her approve._

Shepard jerked her head to Garrus,who explained his findings, the linkages, and mentioned the quarian that his investigation had turned up. The krogan nodded.

"Whole reason I'm here. I work for the Shadow Broker. This was …. well, supposedly a simple job. We thought we had a leak in our network, so the Broker made sure the next incoming piece of intel was routed here. I was to keep an eye on things, monitor the transfer, and if our contact here was dirty, put him down. Even if he was clean, I'm to .. make sure he understands the penalty for sloppiness, and take him out of the network for a while."

The krogan gestured to the stairs, and the group followed. "Except it wasn't like that. The ship carrying the quarian with the evidence was misdirected and ambushed at the docks, the guy who brought her here got his head blown off. The quarian managed to outfox a krogan tracker for half a day before he caught up to her. Lucky for her, I had also caught up to her by then, and I repaid Troyce's death in the best possible way, by blowing the merc's head off."

Alenko frowned. "You're just admitting this in front of a C-Sec detective?"

Wrex laughed. "Most of the Citadel knows by now that Vakarian doesn't give a shit about rules, as long as he gets to nail druggies , slavers and mercs with that cannon of his." The turian shrugged, and irritably gestured with his talons. "You were talking about the quarian."

Wrex nodded, his feet making clumping booms as they descended the stairs. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the quarian is hurt, bad. Tough little varren. I get her to an Upper Wards clinic, and the doctor there is patching her up. She should still be there. I was watching the place when another krogan merc that worked for Saren in the past jumped me." He gestures to the holes in his armor, though his bleeding has stopped. "Dumb bastard brought a shotgun to a fist fight."

Shepard gave another grin. "You mean a biotic fist fight?"

The krogan nodded. "Not many of us have the soulgrip any more. Other krogan forget why we're battlemasters and not battle leaders or warlords."

Garrus's mandibles twitched with impatience. "The clinic? "

Wrex reached the bottom of the stairs and started walking. "Doctor Michele's. Where else is there a clean room in the Wards?"

15 minutes walk brought them to the clinic. Shepard sighed, and turned to Wrex and Alenko. "Stay outside and make sure everything is clear. No point extracting the quarian to get her shot by some sniper. Vakarian and I will go in , retrieve her, and if necessary get the information we need right there."

Alenko saluted. "Aye, ma'am. Hopefully it won't come to a fight, since we're not in armor and have only pistols."

The krogan grunted, leaning against the wall. "Speak for yourself, human." He patted his thick armor with a meaty hand, grinning.

Alenko just shrugged. "What? I'll just hide behind you."

Shepard rolled her eyes and entered the clinic. The door slid shut behind them. There were chairs set out, a waiting area, calming music playing in the background, a shelf of magazines hanging from one wall...and a dead receptionist slumped against the wall, a bloody hole blown in her chest. Instantly Shepard had her pistol out, and Garrus had drawn his own sidearm. She moved as close to him as she could, whispering.

"We'll roll through the door, you take left, I'll cover right."

Garrus nodded, nose twitching at her scent, a mix of medigel and something more … alien. He gripped his pistol tightly, and they rolled through the door just after his massive foot kicked it open. "C-Sec! Freeze!"

Shepard rolled right, behind a counter covered with medical documents, and Garrus had fetched up behind a support pillar. The office beyond was an open bay, 5 set of beds separated by curtains attached to the ceiling, all currently empty and pulled open. Hard, artificial illumination from cheap overhead lights cast dark shadows into the corners. At the far end of the room was some kind of medical equipment, and doors leading to restrooms and an airlock looking door that read "Decontamination - Clean Room. No Exit".

A desk sat at the other end of the room, in front of a narrow metal bookcase of books and a few pictures, and in front of that was a slender, curvy human woman with pale skin and glossy chestnut hair. She was held tightly around the waist by a muscular, human man with a shaved, tattooed skull and wearing the chest armor of an old Onyx battlesuit. A pistol in his grimy hand was pressed against the woman's head,. Two more thugs in cheap armor holding pistols next to the doctor's computer, one attempting to look something up, the other one covering the door with a shaky aim.

The man with the gun to the doctor's head sneered. "I don't think so, C-Sec."

Shepard took in the scene. The thug holding the doctor was not even shielding himself properly with her body, the other two were poorly placed to take a shot. She lifted her pistol and fired, realizing as she did so Garrus had done the same thing.

The thug flew back, the doctor moaning in fright as the mercenaries' jaw and then the top of his head were blown off, spattering her with speckles of blood. The other two fired, the first thug cowering behind the desk as cover, the second yelling as he blasted away. Garrus spun on his heel, putting two shots in the chest of the human behind the desk, the heavy slugs tearing into flesh and spinning the man to the floor in a bloody heap. Shepard only fired once, planting a pullet in her opponents eye, sending him tumbling to the ground a half second later.

Shepard only nodded at Garrus. "Stole my kill."

Garrus gave a turian grin. "Not my fault you're slow. Sometimes, you just get lucky." Coming around the corner, he gently helped the human woman to her feet. "Doctor Michele, are you alright? Did those thugs hurt you?"

She shuddered..."n-nno.. wait...there's -"

As she spoke, the clean room door opened, in it's hatchway stood a salarian in silver and blue armor, hube, black eyes wild with fright, mouth set in a grimace that distorted it's narrow face. It's hands were clenched around a gigantic black Judgment heavy pistol with a bore the size of one of Shepard's thumbs.

Shepard had already holstered her pistol, standing next to Garrus with no cover. Garrus's own weapon was holdstered as well, both caught flatfooted by the unexpected entry. The salarian screamed, saliva flying from his mouth as pulled the trigger frantically, firing rapidly. "DIE YOU EGGSMASHING FUCKS,DIE! DIE!"

8 shots rang out. Shepard waited for the flare of pain, the feeling of her body smashing to the floor, but felt nothing.

Shepard glanced down at herself, then at Garrus who was doing the same thing. She hadn't been hit. Neither had he. Neither had the doctor, for that matter. At a range of barely 10 feet, with a hand cannon that would have blown her in half, she hadn't been hit. She traded a single, dark look with Garrus, and their pistols came up in unison, firing.

The salarian flew back , two craters in his chest, to slam against the hatch edge with a thud before collapsing to the ground, dead. The gun flew from his hand to land on the counter-top next to him with a heavy bang, spinning a few moments in a lazy circle before coming to a stop, it's smoking barrel pointed at the wall.

Shepard turned to the doctor, eyes narrowed. "Be quicker next time you try to warn us about a gunman, instead of sobbing. Did it slip your fucking mind there was another goon in there with a goddamned hand-cannon in the clean room?" Her voice was soft, but icy. Michele only gave a trembling nod, then shook her head, hair flying. "I .. I am sorry, I was.. frightened..." Her voice was rolling consonants and liquid vowels behind her fear, the clear accent of France permeating her words.

Garrus, on the other hand was still, his mandibles loosened in delayed shock. "Did you see the size of that gun he fired at us, Shepard? It was bigger than him. Spirits on a stick." He turned, eying the huge blackened holes in the wall behind where they had stood. He placed his finger in one, the talon sliding in cleanly to a depth of 3 inches. "We should be fucking dead, bleeding out on the floor.

Shepard sighed, and pulled the doctor all the way to her feet. "I know. Like you said, sometimes you get lucky." She checked the doctor for wounds, finding nothing except the spatter of gore from the merc who got shot right next to her , forming a gory decoration on her otherwise pristine white lab coat.

Garrus shook his head. "No..no no. That can't be luck. This...this is the intervention of the spirits."

Shepard tilted her head. "..you're implying that divine forces came down from Heaven and stopped the bullets?"

Garrus nodded. "Exactly. The spirits came from the beyond and stopped these sirefucking bullets. It's destiny. They saved us to stop Saren."

Shepard coughed. "We can discuss the theological ramifications later, Detective. We need to find the quarian." She turned her cold gaze back to the doctor. "Where is she?"

Michele stammered in barely concealed terror. "I..I .. .she left! She was healed, and she got a message f-from someone who said F-fist was ready for her...t-then she took off, without w-waiting!"

Shepard leaned forward. "Where, doctor, is this message?" Michele pointed mutely to her computer, then scrambled away, hastening to bring it up.

Shepard and Garrus stepped behind her, as the holoscreen displayed a human with blocky, cruel features and a marine's buzz cut. "Miss Zoruh. I'm Fist. We have some bizness ta attend to, no? Meet me down in Chora's Den. We'll get this all worked through and you on your way. I'm afraid your buddy Wrex died, but we'll get ya back safe and this … information to the proper place. Don't bother with the cops, I'm sure you're already familiar with how they treat your kind, and they might be in Saren's payroll."

Shepard scowled. "Sounds like an asshole. You know where Chora's Den is at?"

Garrus nodded, still lost in thought. "Lower wards. I'll call in a C-Sec team and … get this mess policed up. Calm the good doctor here down. I'll meet up with you once you have the girl."

Shepard nodded, heading back to the front of the clinic and outside. Wrex stood over a crumpled form, nudging it with his boot. "More of Saren's trash." Alenko was in cover next to him, gun drawn.

"Wrex, the quarian isn't here. She got a message telling her to go to Chora's Den and meet someone named Fist."

Wrex's eyes widened. "Shepard, Fist is the person that the Shadow Broker thinks is our leak. She's walking into a trap."

Shepard cursed. "Which way?" The krogan nodded to a nearby aircar terminal. "Faster by aircar. Other end of the ward."

"Alenko, Wrex, in the car." She moved at a run, tapping her comm-link. "Detective, Wrex says Fist is working for Saren. We're moving into recover her, get to Chora's Den pronto."

"Acknowledged. Be careful, you don't have any armor and Fist's people aren't pushovers."

She smirked. "I don't need armor, Detective. I got three biotics."


	25. Chapter 19 : Liara , Interrupted

**A/N: **_This is more infodump than anything else, but I could not figure out how to get it all out in any other fashion. _

_If my Shepard is psychotic and unable to process emotions, and if my Garrus is darker, crueler and more like Archangel than the original Garrus, then my Liara is an emotional, social cripple, not merely shy. I don't know how to convey that without conveying how pointless Liara felt at the time she was rescued. A normal person with a rewarding career might not have turned into what Liara did. _

_But as with everything in the PremiseVerse , anybody well adjusted and sane dies a horrible death, and anyone who survives will have more issues than a complete back catalog of National Geographic. :D_

* * *

January 24, 2183

Liara sat in the darkness of the dig site, her face buried in her hands. Her comm unit lay shattered at her feet, and a bottle of Serrice brandy was the only other thing on the small table next to her, an empty glass still fouled with a few drops of the drink lying broken on the floor.

_Why does everything go wrong...why..._

For an asari, Liara knew she was far more sheltered than most women her age. The first 50 years of her life had been entirely spent upon the T'soni estates on Thessia, overlooking the sea, snuggled up against the awesome peaks of the Skypillar Mountains. Except for the occasional off-world trip - Palaven, Sur'Kesh, once even to Earth – her whole life had been the classes and training she was put through by her mother, Benezia. Her years at the University of Serrice were hardly more exposed. Every argument with her mother about her chosen path made her withdraw more into her studies, and the more she dug into the Protheans, the more enraptured she became. What few acquaintances she had at the University , who managed to persevere through her shyness, spent their nights in very wild debauchery she had heard or imagined, and many that she had not.

Liara, on the other hand, had fallen into a slippery pit of books, research, and quiet hopeless despair. Though she graduated with honors, and her masters thesis was hailed as a brilliant deconstruction of the Expert Pan-Empiric Collapse theory of the Prothean extinction, the completion of her doctorate opened her eyes for the first time to the real world. Museums were the corporate faces of research for profit. They attracted crowds and allowed the ignorant to ooh and ahh over bits of Prothean architecture about as important to the Protheans as a datapad or pair of shoes. But the real research was digging into Prothean energy fields, the wreckage of colony sites searching for weapons and defensive technologies, and the ever-present race to discover more Prothean Caches and Beacons. The Caches were stockpiles of useful technology, from blueprints that had lead the Asari to develop the first dualpulse FTL drives to full out technologies, like the ultra-light fighter squadrons that made human carriers so deadly.

But it was the Beacons that were the real prize. Each one of the slender green monoliths was an adaptive supercomputer, intergalactic comms relay, and VI-driven monitoring system. Only 19 beacons had been discovered, and 11 of them were classified as "Dark". These beacons, corrupted by some sort of data overlay that had been uploaded to them in the last days of the Prothean Empire, only transmitted mind-blasting images of death. No one, not the strongest asari matriarch or the most stubborn krogan, had ever survived connecting to such a Beacon. The other Beacons though, were full of useful knowledge that they implanted on a memory-driven level. The Salarian Urtha Beacon, for example, had given the Salarian who used it the impetus for the development of modern two-stage kinetic barriers. The asari had made contact with no less than five Beacons, 3 of which dealt with the advanced biotic techniques of the Commandos and the Justicars, such as Reave and Domination. The only known human Beacon on Mars had shattered the minds of its researchers but had led the humans to master mass effect travel and FTL centuries before they would have discovered such concepts on their own.

For all her love of things Prothean, it had been a bitter drink to Liara to discover that the only people employing Prothean experts were corporations looking to loot the sites for Caches, Beacons, and useable tech. No one seemed to really care why they were gone, or why their technology had such strange disconnects. They could build the Citadel and the Mass Relays, but none of their other architecture resembled these structures in any way. They could master biotics on a level even unmatched by the Asari, yet their computer systems were almost antiquated when it came to processing power. They clearly were master biotechs, capable of altering genetic structure almost as if they could interpret the DNA like a book, yet there wasn't a single educational document, ruin, or even data disk about such things.

Most frustratingly of all, Protheans burned their dead, and there was astonishingly little evidence of what the Protheans even looked like. There were bits of skulls that had four eyes, with a humanoid build, mixed in with heavily built tripedal beings with oversized fists, strange creatures like elongated salarians comprised of neuroactive cartilage and no brain area to be found, and of course, the bizarre, semi-humanoid figures of great regal bearing with tentacle-covered faces and claws on their four fingered hands that would not look out of place on a Thessian novatiger. Were the Protheans much like today's Council races, a unified force? Prothean documents only spoke of the Prothean people, as if they were all the same species. But the businesses did not care. The academics only wanted more grants for more digs, to find more artifacts to sell for more money. The technical researchers cared nothing for Prothean culture or history, destroying priceless cultural sites by the acre merely to retrieve power systems or technical schematics.

Liara had given in almost a decade ago, after the final , heart-breaking separation from her mother, and had spent the time attaching herself to whatever science teams would take her. She still published her papers and books, but mainline researchers had no time for her, and most academics believed the question of how or why the Protheans vanished of zero import. The only people who seemed to pay Liara's theories any attention were conspiracy theorists and the occasional disaster-preparation figure, who would query her on how to avoid galactic wide collapses. For a life of one hundred and six years, it summed up by a few bursts of discovery and joy, mired in the soul-consuming mire of despair. She didn't have her mother's endless resources to draw upon anymore, only her slender salary from the University of Serrice. She was an "associate research technician", a glorified digger of holes in the ground, until someone more properly focused could come along and reap the rewards. She had spent her meager earnings on what little equipment she called her own, and on paying her way through various digs and researches. She had never really expected her whole life to spiral down to this, months spent filthy and harried, moving from dig site to dig site, trying to find something to support her own theories. She found tantalizing hints, at the cost of months of backbreaking labor and ever-escalating sniping from other researchers. She found the occasional useful find, which brought her much needed credits, tempered by the fact that she knew such devices were being torn apart to figure out how they worked instead of curated and valued. And the whole time, she was so utterly alone. Never able to find a way to just be a part of the group. Always stumbling through her words, her emotions misfiring like badly tuned guns.

Her hand curled into a fist on her thigh, clenching. Tears leaked past the fingers of her other hand, still cradling her head. She had thought herself clever, even righteous, snapping back at Dr. Sanaris via vidlink. And yet, once again, what she had thought a proper response, a sign that she had grown emotionally enough to hold her own, had turned into a disaster. Yesterday morning, she had opened her comm tool to find 2 communications from the University of Serrice. The first was from the Office of Prothean Studies, thanking her for the years of work she had put in. However, due to budget cuts, not only was her request to move to teaching or full participant in dig sites denied, but she was one of 11 technicians being terminated from employment. Her final 2 solar tencycle's worth of pay would be credited to her account , minus the cost of her transport off Therum. The second email had been from Dr. Sanaris , only a few, cruel lines. _"Spoke with your mother via videolink. Amusing that she seemed to feel you were not following her chosen path for you. Agreed, per her request, that you had better things to do with your time than blunder around our digs. Your papers and database logs have been purged from our system, we have better uses for the space than childish fantasy. "_

Liara had wept angrily, and sent messages to the netbox of her mother, demanding why she had just destroyed her career, but got no answer that day. She had spent the rest of yesterday focused solely on the extranet coverage of the Eden Prime attack, particularly anything she could find about the Beacon the humans had found. She learned some soldier, a Commander Shepard, had accessed it and actually survived. But more astounding, the Beacon had been destroyed, meaning this Shepard person was the only one who knew it's contents.

Infuriatingly, the extranet was full of useless theories and rumors instead of hard details. The geth had attacked the planet, or batarians, or perhaps Collectors. The humans tried to frame Saren for the attack, or it was the Shadow Broker doing it. The Council had sabotaged the humans from the get go and had stolen the Beacon somehow. One particular lunatic had claimed he , too , survived Eden Prime and touched the monolith and that it showed him datapads and VI's eating all living beings alive.

That had been yesterday. Two hours ago, she had been disturbed from her final assessments of a Prothean statue by her comm link vibrating.

* * *

"_Incoming call: Noveria , Benezia T'soni"_

_Liara had hesitated, then hit the connection button. Rather than text, an FTL commlink connected her to a recorded, non-interactive evocation of her mother. _

_Benezia was wearing a white suit, cut tightly around her waist and breasts, with a high, shimmery faint gray skirt. Her head and shoulders were concealed under layered draping of gauzy silver cloth, which formed a sort of shawl over her. Her eyes were narrowed and hard, her lips set in a firm blue line._

"_Liara, by now you should have heard from the University of Serrice. I can only presume you are upset, given the fact that you sent several disrespectful emails to me. I will not tolerate your intransigence any further. I have been tolerant, forgiving of your silly infatuation with the corpse of a failed civilization, much as I was tolerant with you digging holes in the garden. Because you were a child then and you are still a child now."_

_The image of Benezia flickered, and she lifted her chin, continuing. "But the time for silly pastimes is gone. I have need of your service to me, as is my right as your mother and the Matriarch of our House. I will not longer allow you to waste the time, money and energy spent on training you on foolish stubbornness. It would have been more useful if you had whored yourself in some Terminus hellhole, for at least then you'd know how to use your body to achieve your goals. But you have failed even at that which comes naturally to us."_

_Benezia had sneered. "I do not have the time to waste picking you up myself, and you are simply not worth the time of any of my acolytes or commandos to retrieve. I have sent krogan mercenaries under the employment of my friend Saren to pick you up, with orders carry you away by force like a tantrum-throwing child if you resist. I have already informed every asari university of any acclaim that taking any application of employment from you will be held as a personal insult to House T'soni."_

"_I am ashamed to call you my daughter, and perhaps I was wrong to ever think you would amount to anything at all. You will board the ship with the krogan mercenaries when they arrive, or when the Exogeni teams arrive to your location they will have orders for your arrest and incarceration., and I will disown you and take from you the name of your proud ancestors, who must weep at your foolish actions. Do not disappoint me again, Liara."_

_The message had cut out, leaving her in the dark. _

* * *

She had spent the night drinking the two bottles of brandy she had bought back on Thessia, back when the expedition was just gearing up and she was still trying to be as friendly as she could with Amania. The young asari was the first person Liara had been able to relate to, her own history of poverty and want a sharp contrast to Liara's background. But Amania had not been intimidated, or awed, and didn't care of the disapproval of others. It was only later, when Amania's intentions became clear, when Liara realized she wanted to be more than friends, that Liara had backed away. Unsure of herself, unsure of how to even react or respond, she had stupidly panicked, over-reacting to Amania's own loneliness, and ending up driving the closest thing she had ever developed to a friend away. Dr. Sanaris had actually been pleased, saying that Liara at least had the taste not to dip her crest in the gutter classes, and Liara had fled in tears , trying to find a way to explain to Amania what she had meant, what she was scared of.

Of not being able to understand how to handle someone else caring about her. She had searched the entire site, hoping to just .. try to get the words out. To fix at least one thing that had backfired on her. Amania had already left the site, and never answered a single email. The two bottles of brandy Liara had planned to share with her friend at the completion of the dig had sat in her pack, untouched, unnoticed, until that message had come through.

_What have I done to make my entire life a painful, pointless wreck? _

Liara felt sick, heavy, and above all else empty. The fiery liquor had burned through her slender body and left her listless and with a spinning head on the cot in her tent. All of her supplies were gone, only a jug of water and a single tube of long-endurance rations left. Her belongings were neatly packed in two heavy cases, stacked by the landing pad outside of the dig, except for her journals, her personal positions, and her omni-tool, all in her satchel. The minutes passed, empty and wasted. Liara examined her hands, wondering what she was to do in her mother's service, but her thoughts were just rote , pointless fragments, ricocheting around in her head. Just as she was about to try to sleep again, she felt the ground shake, and sighed, feeling her stomach roiling with the liquor. She hoisted her satchel in one hand and staggered to her feet, unsteady, and slowly moved her body ahead.

The Prothean elevator leading to the upper dig level was it's usual, unyielding self, gleaming pure white and undamaged, as if 50,000 years was nothing more than an afterthought to it. She passed the bizarre control panel set into the wall, intending to ride the Prothean elevator to the surface, when she heard the rickety dig-site elevator installed during the first excavation activating. _Of course, they don't know about the Prothean entrance, they're just hired thugs. Mother didn't even bother to tell them how to enter. _She let her satchel fall to the floor, spending a last few minutes examining the control panel, for the stubbornness of doing it rather than any other reason.

She heard a curious sound... a digital clicking and chittering. _Why does that sound so … familiar. _Then a rough , angry voice, like rocks having a fist fight. "Don't chatter at me, geth. Shut up and stay out of sight until I pick up the stupid blue bitch. Saren wants her alive if possible." Liara's mouth seemed to go completely dry, her nerveless hands shaking. She heard another voice, now, hard , digitized speech. "Understood, Weryloc-Strikeleader. We will switch to non/nocarrier fire patterns."

The growling voice – it had to be a krogan – spoke again. "You can shoot the stupid bitch to pieces for all I care, Saren just pays more if she's able to speak. Now, silence. I have to act .. nice."

Liara's breath came in great, heaving gasps of panic. _They are going to take me... maybe kill me, or worse. Why are there geth here? Why are they .. what …_

Liara's pistol was foolishly packed away in her cases topside. She bit her lip, and then prepared to call upon her biotics. She knew it would not end well. She was tired, drunk, exhausted, and hadn't slept properly in days. She didn't even have her Serrice-made neural focus to amplify her natural biotics. The elevator shuddered to a halt, it's doors sliding open in a spray of sparks. "Spread out. She's biotic, if she starts glowing, put a round through her leg". The krogan was huge, broad and heavy looking, with a glowing set of tubes lining his angular black armor in a menacing red color. He had a shotgun of some kind flung over one shoulder, the plate over the shoulder wider than her chest. Thankfully, his back was to her, he was looking towards the camp site. Behind him trailed 5 silvery, elegant figures, all organic curves in steel and strange, gray bundles of what looked like muscles. Curved heads spread illumination around the cave, seeking a target. The krogan whispered harshly, "cut the stupid lights off", and the geth – they had to be geth – went dark, clutching menacing, flowing weapons in three-fingered hands.

There was no way she could take out a krogan and five geth with her biotics, even if she had been in the best of health. She bit her lip , wondering if she was quiet, if she could maybe sneak out and trigger the elevator. It was noisy, but if she was quick , she could get to the surface far before the service elevator could. Her flitter was still there, she could take off for Nova Yekaterinburg ...someone in the human city would help her.

She carefully took a step back. The krogan called out, his voice pitched to an almost calm mien. "Doctor T'soni? I'm Weyrloc Gulm, your mother sent us to retrieve you. We're here to help you move your belongings to our ship, miss."

Silence. She took another step back, drawing even with the control panel to the barrier field she had discovered.

"Doctor T'soni?"

One of the geth half turned, and gave an electronic trill. "Weryloc-strikeleader, she is behind us." "What?" The krogan spun, staring down the long ramp leading to the ruins entrance proper. "Doctor T'soni, don't do anything ...stupid." Liara's voice wouldn't work as the krogan advanced slowly, red eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. "I'm sure you are confused, doctor, but these geth are .. docile. It's a project your mother is working on with Saren." Liara shook, shivers overcoming her. She tried to remember how far it was to the controls of the elevator, if she could run that fast. The krogan's mouth twisted from a grim line to a menacing smile. "T'soni, I'm only going to ask one more time politely. Come with us to the ship. Your mother demands that. You will not be harmed."

"N-no!" Her voice was almost a squeal, shaking and pained. "S-she would never-" Her fear and stress made her biotics flare, as she panicked.

The krogan sighed. "Shoot the bitches kneecaps out, boys." The geth lifted their rifles with mechanical precision. Liara just...reacted. She threw up a barrier, her feeble strength barely enough to form it, as the guns erupted in a spat of high-pitched whines. 5 shots tore across the barrier at knee height, and it shimmered faintly, almost collapsing. She knew it wouldn't hold long enough for her to get to the elevator, but she had one more trick. Her lips twisted in a smile. _Finally, some use for my knowledge. _She slammed her fist down on the control panel , intending to trigger the defensive screen that would seal the entry way.

A voice in Prothean spoke, the words barely understandable to her. "Warning...misfunction. Unfirst detection failed. Enacting ward."

She had expected a barrier curtain to seal the entry way. Instead, the entire entryway filled with blue light, and she found herself jerked up , off her feet, her arms and legs spreadeagled by a force like a thousand grasping hands. She couldn't move, she could barely breath or turn her head. The krogan stopped, jaw open, then shut it. "For the love of rutting Shiagur, what the hell is this?" Liara said nothing, but the geth next to the krogan spoke, it's mechanical voice carrying an undercurrent of concern. "It appears to be some form of energy curtain , combined with a low-grade stasis field. Surmise: probable use in detaining unauthorized visitors." The krogan grunted. "Shut it off."

The Geth examined the field for several seconds, building consensus. "Not possible. Design conforms to Rebel-Prothean field defenses. Nazara identifies this as a military communications array. It is powered by geothermal reactions and can only be deactivated from the inside. "

The krogan threw his hands up. "Stupid machine! That is not an answer that is acceptable!"

"Suggestion: inform Saren-Prophet of events. Likely to have organic contacts capable of disrupting energy field, retrieving T'soni-target." The krogan half turned to look at the geth as if the machine had grown three heads. "Admit failure to Saren? He'd use my hide as a cape. Blast this stupid field down." The krogan lifted his weapon, firing three shots that blazed with the fire of disruptor mods. Liara flinched...but nothing happened. The geth's voice sounded almost apologetic. "Inadvisable action. Field strength estimated in excess of 4000 Newtons."

The krogan cursed. "Dig through the wall!"

"Rebel-Prothean metal is plasma forged composite carbon nanoplating. Estimated time to completion of bypassing tunnel: 8 days, 4 hours, 52 minutes." "Saren will be furious at the delay. No. What else?" The geth paused. "Reassembly of Colossus-mobile platform primary defense cannon to large scale multi-tiered EMP phased energy array. Theoretically would disrupt barrier energy." The krogan nodded. "I'm going to pretend that babble made sense. How long?"

The geth calculated. "3 days, 11 hours. Assuming no external disruptions."

The krogan laughed. "There's some kind of human research team incoming in four days. Cutting it close, but that should work. Get it going." The krogan turned away from the machine to face Liara. "You hear that, you little bitch? 3 days. Then we're going to break all your arms and legs and haul your little blue ass back to Saren." The krogan leaned forward. "But before that, I think I'll have a little fun. Saren doesn't let us go out and have any … relaxation time, after all, and you look like you could use a good hard fuck." Liara's eyes widened in horror, and the krogan laughed and walked off. "Three of you stay here, keep an eye on the bitch. If she's faking and gets free, you know what to do." The krogan and the rest of the geth moved to get back in the elevator , and it ascended with a shriek of tortured metal. The remaining geth stood there, stock still, illuminated only by the glow of the energy fields.

Liara's head couldn't bow in defeat, held stiffly aloft by forces she didn't even understand, but her eyes closed, as she shook with sobs. Either the monsters would get her out of this field, to torture and probably kill her, or she would slowly and painfully die of dehydration and starvation. No one would come to get her. No one cared what happened to her. The University wouldn't even notice her absence ,now that she's been terminated.

The geth watched the young woman cry , unmoving, uncaring.


	26. Chapter 20 : Fist

**A/N: **_A couple of people have asked me about my pace of updates, wondering how I crank out chapters so rapidly. I have most of the chapters for the first book already outlined, the major points laid out , the key parts or tones of the discussions mapped. All that really remains is writing the bulk of the text and checking it against other chapters to make sure I don't contradict myself. _

_My Fist is not a spineless coward. Imagine a Southerner mixed with a touch of mobster. I never understood why he'd send Tali into some open, public space to off her, when he could have done it in the privacy of his club. _

* * *

January 24, 2183

Tali entered the bar, eyes wide behind her mask, taking in the entire scene in front of her.

Most quarians tended to treat their Pilgrimage as very serious, and Tali was no exception. She had spent a few hours once in a quiet restaurant, and once in a tiny little bar on Bikesh, to have a drink of turian brandy. But other than that she never really thought about 'entertainment' venues such as the pit she had stepped into.

The Lower Wards were .. terrifying, really, full of long, dark corridors, gaping pits with no bottom spanned only by narrow bridges, and rusted edifices cut into the walls, windows dark and empty like the eye sockets of long-forgotten skulls. Vague figures slunk from shadow to shadow, and the C-Sec patrols were clearly ready to shoot anyone who even looked aggressive.

But taking Troyce's words to heart, she had kept her head up, walking cleanly thanks to Doctor Michele's excellent treatment of the shallow wound on her leg. She kept one hand on her pistol, and the other on her knife, now sheathed on her belt. Twice male turians had eyed her speculatively, and once a thuggish looking human had given her a dark glare, but no one else bothered her.

But stepping into the chaos of Chora's Den had shook her hard-won false confidence. The main area was a huge dome, with crazed fractal patterns projected on the curved ceiling, interlaced with graphic images of asari women arched in the throes of passion, blue forms unworried with clothing. The center of the Den was a huge circular bar, staffed with a pair of gruff looking turians with dark plates and a total lack of facial markings. The bar surrounded a pillar of what looked to be a thousand, thousand bottles, containers, vials, phials, and small barrels of every sort of alcoholic drink in the known galaxy. Some glowed softly with their own light, some bubbled and fizzed even inside their sealed bottle, and one had haptic flashing lights on it reading "radioactive".

The top of the bar was a flat platform, atop which two asari contorted their bodies around into suggestive shapes, completely naked. The leftmost asari was rubbing two fingers between her legs, leaning forward over the edge of the bar so that her breasts hung down pendulously, shapely legs crossed and eyes bright. The other asari gripped a pole in the center of the platform, her back arched as she supported her weight with only one hand and the grip of muscled legs, her free hand pouring some kind of oil over her chest and laughing.

Tables lined the outer walls, most filled with hard looking krogan, surly turians, bitter humans with smirks on their flat faces, and a couple of salarians. More naked or near naked asari tantalized the clients by writhing on top of tables or grinding against the males by sitting directly in their laps.

The air was thick with smoke, her suit alarms reporting a mix of nicotine, carotine, hallex and several dozen unidentified particulates. She'd have to ditch this air filter for sure once she left. She carefully picked her way through the tables, avoiding the dance floor off to the right, and winced as a krogan smashed his forehead into a turian's face. The turian flew backwards, collapsed in a blue-spattered pile, and the krogan reached out to pull an asari dancer into his lap. "My pole is bigger than his, blue."

Tali shuddered as she gingerly maneuvered past a hulking elcor, trying very hard not to think of what it was doing here and failing miserably. _Keelah, this is vile, I feel like I should bathe my poor environment suit in bleach. _Finally reaching the bar, she raised her head at the bartender. The turian looked up. "Well, lookie here. You really must be a wild one to want to ride the pretty blue ponies at Chora. What's your poison, girly?"

"I'm not here to … partake of your disgusting products. I need to speak with Fist. He is expecting me."

The turian glared at her a long moment before tapping a comm-link set into the wall. "Boss, there's some uppity quarian bitch here, says she's here to see you. Throw her out?"

The voice that responded had that same casual, sleepy drawl as the message. "Goodness no, Thrax. Send her in. And you should respect a lady, I'm sure she's not happy with our .. clientele, after all."

The turian just grunted, jerking a talon to the right. "Past the krogan bouncer. Get lost."

She walked off, not bothering to respond, and immediately saw the bouncer. Not nearly as big as Wrex had been , his head plate was a deep blue, and he wore only a breastplate instead of full armor. Ropy lines of muscle and cartridge connected his upper arms to his chest, and the upper and lower segments of his legs, which were bare. A black loincloth of some kind hung from his hips between his legs to nearly touch the floor, and heavy black boots covered his feet.

The krogan was armed with , of all things, a freaking sword, a heavy blade wider than her arm, shoved point first into the decking, as he leaned arrogantly against the wall. "You here for Fist?"

She just nodded, eying the serrated edge of the sword. "...do you actually use that?"

The krogan laughed, almost good-naturedly. "Only on drunks. I have a gun nearby for real idiots. Fist is waiting for you."

Tali entered the back rooms of Chora's Den, the door shutting behind her. The room was a short corridor, with two doors, one leading to some kind of stockroom, piles of crates heaped high. Figures in black armor sat on some of them or checked weapons, and one glared at her as she moved on. The other door was heavily sealed, flanked by a pair of humans in heavy black armor and carrying shotguns. "Miss Zorah, this way. Fist is in here. You'll have to leave that piece and your knife outside."

She hesitated, but the guard just looked at her. "We don't know you from any other quarian with that damned mask on, and Saren's tried to off Fist once already. The weapons go, or you can get the hell out."

"F-fine." She withdrew the pistol and the knife, and laid them both on the table. One guard ran a scanner over her , grunting. "She's clean, 'cept for the omni, which probably is kinda important."

"Send her in." A voice spoke from the wall, and the guard unlocked the door, letting it slide open.

Tali walked past them, noting the weapons racks on the walls, and into the office of Fist. The room was surprisingly large, dominated on the far wall by a vidscreen of the club. A heavy wooden desk bisected the room, two heavy automated turrets tucked into armored niches to either side. An earth plant sat in a wide oversized pot heaped with dirt, and in the massive, overstuffed chair behind the desk sat Fist.

For a human he was large. He wore a black sports coat of the latest style over a light armor breastplate, his black slacks loose as he crossed his legs, leaning back. His face was blunt, blocky, nearly square, his gleaming scalp visible through the buzz cut off his dirty blond hair. The armor breastplate came up to a few inches below his throat, a white shirt open underneath it, the tip of an Alliance "A" tattoo visible.

Fist smoked a heavy, fat cigar, the smoke forming a layer of gray haze near the top of the office. "Miss Zoruh, have a sit down." His drawling voice was quiet as he smiled a cold smile, gesturing to the chair behind her. She sat , nervously, forcing herself not to clutch her hands together. The door slammed shut, locking with a series of heavy thuds. She jumped a little, but then turned back to face the human in front of her.

Fist flicked an ash into a shallow dish on his desk, black eyes empty and cool. "Miss Zoruh, I'm truly sorry about your whole trip here. Nearly being shot by thugs on Caleston, seeing poor ol' Troyce get killed, even that big bastard Wrex buying it...must be hard."

She swallowed. "How did they... get to Wrex? I was in surgery, I didn't .. hear ..."

Fist nodded, mouth wrapping around his cigar as he took a puff. "Working for the Broker is dirty bizness, Miss Zoruh. Things can and do go downhill at a moment's notice. And while the Broker has a long reach, he's not the only one who is a big wheel. Wrex forgot that Saren had a lot of power and muscle and paid for it."

He flicked the ashes from his cigar again and smiled. "As it happens, actually, that's kind of the moral of the story."

Tali blinked, confused. "I.. I don't understand."

He made a gesture with his hand, one intersecting the other at an angle, cigar held carelessly. "You see...I'm ambitious. I see things changin', places opening up where before there was nothin' but scorn. People like the Broker think you can control events by keeping an ear to the ground, a threat here, a bit of blackmail there. That sort of shit only works as long as people are not willing to call you on your bluff, though."

He took a puff from his cigar, blowing blue-tinted smoke in a cloud in front of him, and Tali was very thankful her filters were still working. "But this information you have, well..it could disturb a very tricky balance between two powerful men. You .. do have the information, yes?"She nodded , a bit nervous at his words or what they might mean. "Y-yes. It took a while to put it together..but it's all here, intact. I didn't tamper with it."

Fist nodded. "Before we start talking numbers...I'd like to hear it."

Tali nodded, and triggered the recording. There was a burst of static , then a bland mechanical voice. "Prime 302 to Prime-CoordinatorOfTactics-5. Aural band transmission of requested data is ready. Utilization of aural bands to avoid monitoring from Saren-Prophet as requested."

A second mechanical voice cut in, deeper, slower, as if less used to talking. "Acknowledgment of primary mission complete. Consensus has been achieved. Saren-Prophet is not direct representative of Nazara-Giver-of-Future. The Old Machines have not chosen their avatar-prime connection. Discrediting Saren-Prophet and Benezia-Secondary would allow geth to achieve Avatar-prime connection status."

The first voice was silent for a moment. "Understood. Compromising vocal recordings enclosed. If Saren-Prophet violates restrictions, transmission to Nazara-Giver-of-Future can be conducted."

"Transmit vocal recordings."

There was another pause, then the dual-tone voice of a turian spoke. "Still...Eden Prime was a major victory, the beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit."

A second voice, exotic, sensual , spoke. "And one step closer to the return of the Reapers. And with no one the wiser, if Cerberus does it's job correctly."

The first voice sounded again. "I'm more worried about the Geth., Benezia. As long as Cerberus's ruse works, well and good. But using the geth for this assault was a bad idea, just as I told Sovereign. I wouldn't have had to kill Nihlus if I could have used some finesse. It's as if he's trying to make sure I don't go my own way."

The second voice spoke, more quietly. "And the geth watch us constantly. We must be careful, Saren."

The first voice begins to speak an unidentified word before the transmission dissolved to static. Tali cut it off. "That's...that's all I was able to get."

Fist nodded, eyes bright. "Heh. That's more than enough. Far more than enough. In fact, sorry to say, it's... too much, really. Stupid to fucking use names. Stupider to admit to a murder. But stupidest to talk around machines that routinely share everything they do and think with others like them everywhere."

Tali was surprised. She hardly expected a thuggish looking bar owner to know about distributed geth networking. "You know about how the geth function?"

Fist took another drag off his cigar, the cherry casting his face in a sinister red glow for a moment. "Oh yeah. I've got...all the details. And that's where we have … well, a problem, Miss Zoruh. The broker offered me 150,000 credits for the recovery of this data, so he could sell it to the Council for untold millions, probably."

Fist extinguished the cigar, and then his hand picked up a heavy caliber pistol from his lap that she had not seen , given the darkness of the office. "Unfortunately, Saren has offered me 5 million credits for the data, and for me to make sure it goes away, forever.. Sorry to have it come to this, ma'am. You seem like an awfully good kid."

Tali froze, thinking of how to escape, and Fist shook his head. "Don't bother. You get up from that chair, the turrets fill you with holes even if I miss. And I'm ex-military, I won't miss at this range, Miss Zoruh. Even if you **did** drop me and the turrets with some fancy engineering trick, the door is locked mechanically, and there's nothing to hack. You ain't fighting your way through 20 of my men with an omni-tool."

Fist leaned back, his free hand picking up a glass of wine, his weapon hand holding the gun steady, it's dark barrel pointed at her face. "So, in a few minutes, Saren's men'll be here. We'll try to be civilized. Once we're sure there ain't no copies, no backups, we'll wipe your omni-tool and melt it down. What happens then is is up to you. If you cooperate, if you don't raise a fuss, I'll suggest disposing of a quarian corpse is a waste of time, and ask that they let me handle it. I have no need to kill a young woman. Play nice and we'll give you access to Troyce's little ship. I'm sure he'd want you to have it anyway. Nice present for the folks back home. You go your merry way and maybe owe us a favor down the line."

His voice hardened. "Or you cause problems, get smart, or try to lie to us, and we can peel you out of that suit. After you've had a few bones broken, you'll be singing whatever we want to hear. And I've got a few clients on my list that have always wondered what it would be like to fuck a quarian. Your people don't last so long out of dem suits, but you should live long enough to entertain, hell, three, four , maybe five of my clients? We'll be polite enough burn your body when we're done rather than have C-Sec find you and send what is left back to your fleet of gypsy ships."

Tali was shaking in fear, anger, horror, and despair. She couldn't even find her voice, or do anything. It felt as if a thousand pounds of stone pressed on her shoulders, her hands gripping the arms of the chair so tight the tension made her arms ache. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to … _keelah, why is this happening..._

Fist slowly nodded. "You're smart , I can see that. Way you're trying not to shake and burst into crying means you're a tough lil' cookie, but you are playing in the big leagues now, and I'm not fucking around. Like I said. Your choice. Life, or a miserable fucking pain filled existence soon to end in some pile of ashes on the Lower Wards. "

He smirked, when his comm unit flared. Not taking his eyes from Tali, he tapped it with his free hand. "Bjora , you'd better be telling me that Saren's men are here."

"Ah...n-no sir. The lookouts just spotted an aircar touch down at the upper landing. The krogan we thought we killed is headed to the club, along with .." The voice trailed off.

Fist snarled. "With what? The ever-fucking pope? Sha'ira in a g-string?"

"..n-no, sir...it's the Butcher." Fist paled, eyes boring in to Tali. "Do you know about this?" Tali shook her head. "I-I don't know anything! I just … don't .. " Fist exhaled, gritting his teeth. "Shut up." He tapped the comm unit again. "Break out everything, I mean every fucking thing. Get everyone armored up. And send a call to Saren's men, dammit, they need to get here. Don't let Wrex get inside, and if he and that bitch do, I want them fucking dead."

"Yes boss."

Fist exhaled again, and his mouth settled in a grimace. "You are already costing me more than you are worth. Now , transfer the data to me, nice and slowly. Try anything stupid, and I swear to the Virgin Mary I will blow your goddamned head right off." Tali swallowed and nodded, transferring the data to Fist's own omnitool. "Good girl. Now, take that omni off and toss it on the desk."

Tali hesitated. "It helps regulate my suit..."

Fist tilted his head and fired, the bullet speeding so close to her head it tore the edge of her reik. She shrieked, nearly bolting, but managed not to move. "I will _not_ ask again. Take it off."

She bit her lip as she removed the sleeved padd from her arm, hearing a few minor alarms in her suit as the microprocessor in the omni-tool disconnected. She placed it on his desk, her hand trembling, then sat back. Fist nodded. "Now, slide your chair back and into the corner next to the plant there." He watched as she did so, and nodded again. "Computer, lock port side turret to target in grid 1 dash 1. Fire on significant movement out of grid 1 dash 1."

One of the turrets popped fully up, the 3-barreled length of the gun spinning up and aiming right at Tali. Fist lowered his own pistol, and stood. "As long as you don't move, it doesn't fire. Leave that chair, or move more than a foot from that spot, and it will cut you in half."Fist loaded his pistol with some sort of mod, and clipped a battle visor over his eyes. "If you will excuse me, I have uninvited guests to deal with." He took out a slotted metal card from his pocket and slid it into a slot by the door, which unlocked and opened with a thud.

A moment later it slammed shut behind him, re-locking, leaving Tali alone, with nothing but a dissipating cloud of cigarette smoke and the quiet hum of the turret for company.


	27. Chapter 21 : Tetrimus

**A/N: **_I love quiet Monday nights. I can get a ton of writing done. _

_It's almost a shame for Bioware to waste the potential of a two-bit thug done good like Fist. I don't intend to do the same. And be honest, who hasn't ever wished they could see Shepard going biotically WWF on a mofo? Anyway, I apologize for how scattered this chapter is, but it has to incorporate a bis fight AND wrap up a lot of loose ends. _

_Oddly enough, the music for this chapter? I got my mind set on you by George Harrison. _

* * *

January 24, 2183

Shepard stormed forward as the aircar doors opened, with Alenko trailing in her wake and Wrex stomping alongside her, loading inferno shells into his oversized shotgun. She glanced at it, out of the corner of her eye. "Jesus, Wrex, did you loot that from a main battle tank?" The big krogan just chuckled. "Elcor merc, actually. Dumb bastard made a mess when he landed after I used my biotics to push him off a six story building. He didn't need it anymore."

Alenko noted the easy banter between the Commander and the krogan, again, wondering at how much more at ease Shepard seemed with a ton of alien killing machine than with her own kind. _But then again, maybe it makes sense. The krogan are simple, they focus on fighting, strength, and power, they don't put a lot of stock in emotions... _

Alenko swallowed, his thoughts trailing off , as he eyed the flashing lights of the bar at the end of the broad avenue. Chora's Den was set into a corner of the Wards, not far from the market area. The only approach was through a narrow set of corridors or down an open , wide avenue, flanked by ledges and pillars surrounding a deep pit that lead to the sector's power transfer conduit. Shadows clung to corners and the entire front of the club was set back into the walls of the Wards.

"Ma'am, what's our approach strategy?"

Shepard nodded. "Wrex will storm in and lead, opening up with throws, and take down any heavy armored targets with that artillery piece of his. I'll flank left, you right. Don't bother with the pistol, unless you're confident of a head shot, at least some of these thugs are likely to wear light ballistic vests or full hard suits. Go for biotic close quarter battle. You know how to augment your punches and kicks, right?"

Alenko nodded. "Yes ma'am, I had to take the C5 classes on that." He remembered how hard it was to maintain a biotic field without concentration, having to keep the energies tamped down and yet let them explode out when kicking or punching. Asari were masters at it, and krogan were good. Humans, being artificial biotics at best, were usually not so hot, and those who were, like Shepard, were put into the CQB Vanguard training program. Alenko had passed the training, but only barely. He decided not to try and pretend otherwise. "But to be honest, ma'am, I'd feel better if I could use my omni-tool to disrupt weapons and act as crowd control, ma'am. I mean, I can do a biotic punch,but I'm no vanguard."

Shepard didn't slow her pace, but nodded. "That's probably a better idea, but stay under cover and don't forget to check your six. Wrex, sniper, 4 o'clock, 40 feet up." She didn't even pause, even as Wrex almost casually flicked a hand in that direction. The blue fire of biotic energy pulsed down his arm and outwards, slamming into the fragile salarian perched on the high ledge. With a ululating scream, the half-pulverized sniper fell past them into the power transfer core, a white light illuminating the deep pit for a moment later as his body was no doubt flashed into subatomic mist.

The three approached the main entrance, slowing. Too late, Shepard noticed the slim cameras above the door, and her jaw tightened as about a dozen men stormed out of the main door, all of them in black hard-suits and with submachine guns or machine pistols. "Open fire", one barked, a human with a wide scar occluding one eye, his face covered in stubble but his blond hair neatly trimmed and cut.

Wrex growled and didn't even stop moving forward, firing as he went. He jerked back as rounds impacted against his shields, but then surged ahead, his first shot blew the leader's right leg into paste, sending the man backwards with a stumble that turned into a splatter as blood jetted from the gory stump to the ground in front of him. His second shot, half a second later, crushed the armor of the rightmost figure, a turian, sending the idiot staggering backwards as well. The turian gave a desperate cry as the force of the shot knocked him over the guardrail into the power conversion pit.

Shepard, on the other hand, reacted to the merc's appearance with biotics. Her form flashed into blue light, a flicker faster than the eye could follow making a streaking azure blaze across the distance, and erupting into a storm of mass energy as she crashed into the two thugs on the left. One man was launched backwards, slamming into the wall with enough force that his skull cracked. Thick red blood seeped from his nose for a moment, before Shepard's undamaged hand found his throat, stiffened fingers augmented with biotic force. The knife-hand blow crushed his windpipe, sending him to the ground in a rapidly fading explosion of pain. Shepard then turned to the man she had charged into, and shifted her mass from fist to foot. Bringing her right leg out in a snap kick, her booted toe crashed into the second human's temple. Bone snapped and the man's head gave a sickening lurch-pop sound as vertebrae tore completely free and the man's head ended up at a 90 degree angle from it's original place.

Alenko tapped a program with his omni-tool, ducking behind a column for partial cover. He focused his energy, and then extended his free arm at the group of thugs nearest to the door. Three men lifted from the ground helplessly, his biotic fields reducing their weight to less than zero, while his omni-tool beeped ominously and then ran the requested program. The on-board generator flashed a volume of high-energy particles in a cone in front of him, the very air igniting as it was forced into a white-hot plasma state. The flames roared out, flowing over the three figures in mid air, turning them into floating, jiggling pillars of screaming, melting flesh for a few moments before they crashed to the ground, the smell of cooked meat wafting across the avenue.

Wrex grinned. "Ha! I like this human!" He put a round through another merc, the blast so powerful it actually blew a gore-trimmed hole through the human to blast the salarian behind him apart as well. A few seconds later, all the thugs lay dead. Shepard picked up a machine pistol and handed it to Kaiden, after picking up a battered but serviceable Mattock long rifle from another guard. "In we go , let's try not to shoot anyone unless they work for Saren. Or Fist."

Wrex muttered. "Easier to just shoot them all. Quicker , too."

Alenko gave a shocked look , and to his immediate relief, Shepard shook her head. "We're going to have enough problems convincing the Council to listen to us without having dozens of civilian casualties. Evidence won't do us any good if we're in jail." The three of them reached the front of the club, the music within muted by the closed doors. "Let's hope this doesn't go completely to shit immediately."

Wrex stormed through the doors, roaring, shotgun out. He stopped , suddenly, and Shepard and Alenko moved behind him, weapons ready.

The club was dimly lit, lights flashing their perverted graphics onto the ceiling as normal. Almost all of the patrons of the club , as well as the dancers, had been gathered onto the dance floor, forced to their knees, hands behind their backs. 15 or so guards in light black armor stood behind them, weapons drawn. A krogan stood in a doorway off on the other side of the large room, slapping the wide blade of a sword into his palm. Next to him were 3 or 4 more black-armored goons, each holding heavy assault rifles.

Sitting on a bar stool in the middle of the club was Fist, a drink in one hand and a heavy pistol in the other. "Welcome to Chora's Den, Wrex. Why, you look absolutely pure-dee pissed. " The human mobster gave a cocky grin, his black eyes narrowed.

Wrex growled. "Give me the quarian and maybe I'll kill you clean."

Fist shook his head, draining his drink. "Don't think so, Wrex. She's in the back, with a heavy turret pointed at her head, and if anything happens to me, well... my men will get to the trigger panel first, and quarians don't hold up so well to tungsten rounds. Not to mention these fine, fine guests of mine will also eat a bullet."

Wrex sneered. "You think the Broker gives a shit about hostages, human?"

Fist smiled. "Naw. And you sure as fuck don't, and I'm pretty sure the Butcher there don't either. But see, that's not the thing I'm countin' on. The thing is that I'm gonna walk out of here unharmed, get in my shuttle, and leave. And then you can get your data, and these people don't have to die. OR you can try to kill me, my guards use the hostages as human shields, you have to kill a lot of innocent people on live recorded cameras that will get sent to C-Sec, and the data will get erased and you'll do a lot of hard, hard time. Which is more important...stoppin' me, or stoppin' Saren?"

Shepard scowled. "And how the fuck do we know you aren't lying about the data?"

Fist pressed a button on his omni-tool, and Saren's voice rang out. "I wouldn't have had to kill Nihlus if I could have used some finesse. It's as if he's trying to make sure I don't go my own way." Fist cut the recording off, and pulled a cigar from the front pocket of his suit jacket. He lit it with a tiny flame from the omni-tool and puffed out smoke. "Good enough for you, honey?"

Shepard's finger tightened around the trigger of the Mattock. "Take the omni tool and leave it on the bar."

Fist shook his head. "Nah. Miss Zoruh , in the back, still has it on hers. Didn't have time to wipe it with what all you have going on here. Mine, I'm afraid, I'll need to call my shuttle and make sure you all don't pull nothing. Just cooperate, and we all walk outta here winners. Face it, you're dealing with a superior criminal mind here, girlie. I go, you get the data, no one dies. You can't win them all, despite – "

A cold, irritated voice sounded behind and above Fist, interrupting him. "I _hate_ monologues, human." Fist spun, looking up, as the black-garbed form of Tetrimus uncloaked atop the dancer's platform. The turian cabalist was already in motion, however, his hands limned in blue fire as he hurled two shockwaves of biotic force into the guards threatening the hostages. The goons went flying in all directions, some hurled against the walls hard enough snap spines or crack skulls, others skidding across the dance floor to crash into the far wall with sickening splatters. The turian followed it up by pulling out his pistol, calmly placing shots at will into eyes and foreheads.

Wrex moved, immediately firing at Fist, the heavy shotgun booming out a belch of flame as the inferno round ignited. Fist was hurled head over heels, over the bar, to crash into the liquor collection at the bars center. Bottles shattered and Fist screamed as the still burning inferno rounds in his armor ignited the spirits drenching him, sending runnels of burning fluid inside his armor, down his arms and legs, into his eyes. With a choking, gurgling scream Fist collapsed into a blackened mess on the floor. The pool of burning alcohol left runners of fire racing up the pillar of various libations, and his fancy suit burst into flames as well. There was a screaming series of sobs, mixed with a bubbling noise, and Tetrimus, with an amused flicker of his one good mandible, placed a shot into the burning mass of flesh, silencing it forever.

Shepard and Alenko had moved the moment the black-cloaked turian had appeared. Alenko immediately threw up a barrier between the hostages and the remaining guards, straining with the effort to curve it's edges around them, spraying suppressive fire with the machine pistol he had. Shepard ran forward, Mattock leveled, and fired four snap shots, each one drilling a merc in his weapon arm. Two of the mercs dropped to the floor, the shots having struck something vital as well, the other two cursing and grabbing their injuries. A third merc winged her shoulder with a shot, but she didn't even slow down, grimacing with pain but flaring biotically.

Smoke was beginning to billow from behind the bar, and from the bodies of two more dead merc Wrex shot down, one hit in the chest with enough force that a seared, slightly burned arm went spinning off into a corner, the other taking a direct hit in the crotch, howling in agony and collapsing to the ground , writhing until Wrex's heavy boot stomped on his skull. The gory crunch and spray of blood that erupted from under Wrex's foot did nothing for Alenko's stomach, nor did the stench of burning body parts.

Shepard , unable to hold the rifle aloft properly with a wounded arm, flung the Mattock in front of her and with a pulse of biotic energy used a push field to send it accelerating into the wrist of the merc who had shot her, the only one not taken out by Tetrimus's shockwave, knocking his weapon out of his hands and sending him to the ground. Leaping over a table, she landed on light feet, her right leg snapping out to connect with the head of a merc still recovering from the shockwave, dropping him. "Move people, to the door , go go go!"

The crowd, a mix of turians, humans, barely clothed or naked asari, and an elcor, stampeded for the doorway in a panic, trampling several of the mercs still on the floor. One human merc attempted to get to his feet, and Shepard cruelly drove a biotically reinforced kick into his face, snapping his jaw like a dry twig and sending a sheet of blood cascading down over his now ruined features. Two more rushed her, one a green-tinged salarian in bits of old armor, concave chest crossed by a bandoleer of heavy splinter shells, hands filled with a heavy, dark red shotgun, The other opponent was an emaciated human, dark brown skin criss-crossed with old slash marks, long black hair swaying in long locks across his face, drawing a long, curved knife from a sheath on his chest.

She threw herself into a skid across the floor, catching the shotgun wielder with a scissoring movement of her legs, twisting her body and throwing the lighter salarian to the ground. Rolling free she snatched the shotgun from his stunned hands, stepping away and parrying a swing of the other man's blade with it's barrel, and then brought the heavy weapon across the mercenary's face. It slammed into him with a visceral crunch, and Shepard paused long enough to grab his long hair with her free hand and jerk his face to the business end of the shotgun, which she fired. His head literally disintegrated with the blast, leaving her holding a hank of hair and bloody dripping flesh. The salarian thug she had tripped got to his feet, only for Shepard to hurl the gory mess in her hand into his face. He gave a revolted shout, pawing at his face to wipe bits of hair and scalp out of his eyes. Shepard put the remaining two shots into his chest, the impacts heavy enough to send him crashing through a flimsy glass table, jagged pieces of tabletop scything through his body and sending out gouts of greenish ichor as he collapsed.

Taking advantage of her turned back, another human merc, one of the ones she had shot but not put down, lunged at her, his heavy frame thick with muscle , the wound in his forearm bleeding profusely. He managed to land a solid blow to her back, and then tried to grab her, but she snapped her head back, slamming the top of her skull into his face, breaking his nose. He staggered back, roaring, and she turned to face him, tossing the empty shotgun aside and grinning. "Ooh, a big boy." The merc screamed an incoherent battle cry and swung a hay-maker at her, his fist tattooed with the word "PAIN" in blurry letters.

She ducked under his wild punch, and her biotics flared as she rammed his torso with her shoulder. Staggering back, the merc attempted to grapple with her, but she backhanded him , sending his head flying to one side, teeth spraying from his mouth. With a roar she wrapped her arms around the thug and pulled, throwing herself back and down, pile-driving the human into the ground. His head met the floor and bent to the side with an audible, grisly snapping sound, and Shepard flung his corpse away, wiping her hands with a cruel grin.

Alenko let go of his barrier now that the hostages were mostly clear, ducking just in time to avoid being shot by the mercs in the far doorway. He triggered a lift field, the four humans suddenly lifting into the air , tumbling helplessly. Alenko's hands shook as he wrenched the forces around the men from merely negating gravity to warping the energy into another form, and there was a shearing, ugly blast of blue light as he detonated the lift field. Bits and pieces of black armor, arms, legs, and chunks of steaming flesh spattered in a crude sphere , to land on the walls, floor, even the ceiling. A single, dying merc remained, and Alenko shot him in the head with a burst, the rapid-fire pulse rounds juddering into the man's face in a burst of blood.

Wrex was already charging, running forward with thudding steps to meet the counter charge of the sword wielding krogan, who had run forward to challenge the battlemaster. The two were roaring phrases that Shepard's translator wasn't even trying to convert to English, and they crashed together with a sound more akin to an aircar collision than melee combat. The bouncer swung the sword at Wrex, but blue energy surrounded the krogan battle master's hand as he caught it, barehanded, laughing harshly before snapping the blade in half with a wrench of his arm."Ha, who are you supposed to be , pup, Moro the Ice-Blood?" Wrex plunged his head forward, his plates impacting the other , smaller krogan's face, and the bouncer staggered back, blood in his eyes, his hand holding a broken blade. Wrex just shook his head and fired his gun four times in a row. The first three shots blasted 3 smoking, gory holes in the krogan's chest that smouldered fitfully, the fourth pulped his head, leaving a steaming crumpled mass of flesh and broken bones, burning sullenly from the inferno rounds and sending up a stream of appallingly foul smelling smoke.

Shepard paused, looking around. With the exception of the slow moving elcor, who was just now reaching the door, she saw no living enemies, and no civilian casualties. Tetrimus was standing atop the bar, arms folded, one eye glowing a baleful red in the concealing blackness of the hooded robe he wore. "I suggest, Commander, that you go secure Miss Zorah. We have some things to discuss. Meet me at Flux." With a single casual leap down from the platform, he erupted into a cascade of electrical sparks and was simply gone.

Alenko blinked, then holstered his machine pistol, sighing. "All that, and I didn't even get to see the dancers." Shepard gave him an odd look, and he cleared his throat. "Uh, sorry ma'am."

She shook her head. "And all this time I thought you had a stick up your ass, LT. Let's go. Maybe they'll have some ladies at Flux." With a hint of a smile, she stepped over corpses towards the door, leaving Alenko to suppress a blush as he followed.

* * *

10 minutes later, Tali was in the aircar's back seat with Shepard , as Wrex drove and Alenko kept an eye out for C-sec. The quarian youngster was still shaking with relief, not having quite processed the whirlwind scene she had witnessed through the vidscreen in Fist's office. The shock of seeing Wrex alive was one thing, but realizing she was not going to die was still settling in. She didn't know what to think about the imposing figure seated next to her. Shepard wasn't even breathing hard, the one minor wound she took in the fight already patched with medigel, her hands flat against her thighs. Tali tried to match the calm figure to the raging psychopath she had seen on the screen, slaughtering people with her bare hands, and couldn't make the two images line up.

_Keelah, she's terrifying..._

Tali exhaled, and gathered her scattered thoughts to at least thank her rescuers. "I..th-thank you again, Commander. And you too, Wrex. I didn't think .. anyone was coming for me. Fist was responsible for ...everything that went wrong. W-wasn't he? For Troyce and..." She trailed off, head drooping.

Shepard shrugged, eyes fixed ahead. "I'm not sure, and I think we'll have to wait for answers. But Fist was a two-bit , stupid criminal asshat with a dumb name, and he died like the bitch he was. I fear whoever was behind him was the real culprit. And I'm betting it's a pointy-faced bastard I'm going to enjoy killing." Her voice had become increasingly cold as she spoke, but she paused, taking in the quarian's slumped posture, and tried to lighten her tone. "Hey. He's dead. As long as you're with us, someone would have to be goddamned brain dead to try to hurt you." Shepard glanced at Wrex. "Actually, I'm still astounded the stupid fool thought he could actually betray the Shadow Broker and live."

Wrex chuckled. "Name like Fist, you don't expect much in the way of brilliance, huh?"

Tali had witnessed Fist's horrible, fiery death and shuddered. "And you, Wrex? How did you survive, they said you were dead..."

Wrex grunted. "Stupid merc didn't do that much damage, but he did get the drop on me. That's twice in the same damned day. Must be getting old. Anyway, like I was telling Shepard earlier...he brought a gun to a fist fight. Got off a couple of good shots, but he was stupid enough to think he could disable me and figure out where you were. He looked pretty surprised when I tore his arms off. Was going to go immediately to make sure you were still safe, but the commotion and mess and him screaming like a kicked vorcha caused C-Sec to arrest me. Speaking of C-Sec, Shepard, where is that pet turian you had earlier? Could be useful in keeping C-Sec off our back ..."

"Good question. And he is not my pet." She tapped her commlink. "Detective, this is Commander Shepard, we've secured the quarian we spoke of. . . and the evidence."

The voice that answered her was somewhat downcast. "Understood. I've...been suspended for my actions here at the clinic, Commander. I'm afraid there isn't much I can do to help you. C-sec alert bands are crawling with some kind of big firefight that happened at Chora's den, but so far the only APB's out are non-specific. They're looking for a krogan and a turian in black armor."

Shepard nodded. "I am sorry you are suspended. Perhaps what we found can cheer you up, though. Do you know Flux, the club? We're headed there now, and I think there's someone you should meet."

The turian gave a chuckle over the comm, flanging voice tired but wry. "I could _seriously_ use a drink right now anyway. I'll meet you there."

Shepard glanced up at Wrex as she killed the connection. "You're sure this Tetrimus is trustworthy?" Wrex shrugged. "He's always paid me on time, and Flux is more public and crowded than Chora's Den. No chance of him pulling anything there, it's got too many important people that go there. They have damned good ryncol. And most importantly, he's got my damned money."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Far be it from me to get between Wrex and money. Or ryncol."

Tali looked between them with bewildered eyes. "You .. know each other? I – I mean, from before .. all of this?"

Wrex laughed and just shook his massive head. "Long story, quarian."

"My name..." Tali's voice was a growl.

"Sorry, sorry...don't stab me in the eye." Wrex gave a mocking grin, and the little quarian only glared at him, sending him in to amused chuckles. "Got a quad on her, she does."

* * *

Shepard sat across from Wrex in the music-filled and darkened confines of Flux, making sure she had a clear view of the door. The booth was dark, and in the corner, which suited her fine, apparently the only booth big enough for a krogan. Wrex sat down, yelling at Doran for a slug of ryncol, and Tetrimus was already seated when they arrived, sipping on something blue and faintly glowing. Tali was perched between Shepard and Alenko, her shoulders slightly hunched. Alenko gave her a gentle squeeze of the shoulder and a smile, and she tried to relax.

Finally, Garrus Vakarian walked up and sat at the end of the booth. He was still wearing his C-Sec armor, but the holographic badge once affixed to his shoulder was dark. "I got here as quick as I could, Shepard. Executor Pallin is screaming for answers about Chora's Den.."

Tetrimus's cold, dark voice cut in. "Do not worry about that, Detective Vakarian. We have that under control."

Garrus bristled, mandibles flaring in annoyance. "I'm sorry, who is "we"? How can you have C-sec 'under control'? And who the hell goes around dressed up like that, anyway?"

Tetrimus pulled back his hood, revealing his features, and even Shepard couldn't hold back a wince. The turian's face was blackened by ancient burn wounds, some deep enough to reveal the under-skin, cracks and bits of the plating melted directly into the flesh beneath. The skin behind the plates was shiny and dark black with a plastic looking texture; obviously some kind of medical replacement. One eye was gone, the plates melted over it in swirled caul that mounted a laser rangefinder, the other eye was replaced with a red-glowing cybernetic replacement , anchored to the face with small, black spikes. The left mandible was gone, trimmed back surgically, the jaw a mess of cracks. The turian's fringe was melted, drooping and broken off in places. The facial markings applied were clearly paint and not tattoos , done in a bright searing red, long lines down both cheeks topped by the turian symbols for "betrayal".

"I am Tetrimus Rakora, once grandmaster of the Primarch's Fist cabal. Abandoned and left for dead on Shanxi to avoid ... unpleasant political ramifications. Despite 15 years of loyal service, I was betrayed and tossed aside so that the Hierarchy could pretend it's honor was intact. I was rescued and saved from death by my current employer. The Shadow Broker. I speak with His voice. I am the executor of His will. And when I say you don't need to worry about C-Sec, I mean just that."

Wrex snorted. "I thought you hated monologues."

Tetrimus pulled his cowl back over his ruined features. "I also hate smartass krogan. Here." He slit a credit chit and a slender datapad to Wrex. "As agreed, plus a combat bonus. But stick around, I have another job for you."

Then Tetrimus turned to Tali. "Miss Zorah, the Shadow Broker apologizes for the .. treatment you have endured. We knew there was a possibility that Fist was compromised, but we did not think he was in active collusion with Saren. We had to determine the leak somehow, and I'm afraid you, and Captain Troyce, were caught up in the middle." The voice was polite, but cold.

She just shook her head. "He killed Troyce." Her eyes closed, and she willed her self not to start crying again. The memories of the kindly drell, his smile, his crazy boots, even the concern in his voice describing his friends . . . "and … from what you are saying, he died because you needed bait to prove Fist was a traitor. I.. I understand that, but . . ." Tali's fists clenched. "Couldn't you have done it some other way!"

Shepard gently took one of quarian's hands. "Sometimes to get the job done, or save lives, we have to do very .. ugly things. You never feel good about them. You never _forget_ them. I have had to sacrifice … hundreds of brave soldiers, with wives, husbands, children. Their voices... are always there. But if you hesitate, sometimes what remains is worse. Sometimes a greater evil comes from trying to do what seems … right." Shepard's voice was cool, but her eyes were dark with old memories. The quarian just gave a shaky nod.

The cloaked turian nodded at Shepard's words. He looked at Tali closely, then shrugged. "And there isn't anything I can do to repair that damage. Captain Troyce .. knew the risks going into this. And if not for that, Fist would still be siphoning information from the Broker. Without knowing he was the culprit, it's very likely that I might have met with you myself, and we would both be surrounded and killed." The turian took a long sip of his drink, and shrugged again. "Lives are the currency in the world I live in."

Alenko frowned. "That seems … cold."

The turian nodded, the hood making the gesture almost comical, but there was nothing funny about the icy voice emanating from the darkness of that hood. "It is cold. And it is also reality. As I said, I can't .. change that, Miss Zorah. I've done what I can. I've transferred a sum of 250,000 credits to your accounts, more than we originally offered, but you endured a great deal to get this data to us. Troyce had no family to speak of, they passed away from Kepral's some time ago. I have taken the liberty of transferring his ship to the ownership of Lieutenant Dost, per his last wishes, but if you choose to leave the Citadel immediately Dost has already notified me he would be fine if you were to receive the vessel as well. It would be.. an appropriate gesture, I think, and one Troyce would support, if you were use it as a return gift for your Pilgrimage."

Tetrimus paused, and then handed over a credit chit and datapad to Tali, who took it with hesitant fingers."And I have a message for you, from the Shadow Broker himself. The Broker would appreciate having the ear of the daughter of Admiral Rael, or to at least know she would be willing to listen to our offers in the future. We regret such cooperation cost a brave man his life...but thus the game is played."

Tali sniffled, but sat up straighter. "I .. I didn't do this for money. But .. I'll need it for my Pilgrimage. The ship...I don't know how to fly it, but .."

Tetrimus nodded. "Of course. If need be we can assign you a trustworthy pilot." He straightened, and his baleful red gaze turned to meet Shepard's. "And now, Commander Shepard, to the point of this .. exercise. I apologize in advance if you are frustrated or angered at what I am about to explain, but I fear that whatever Saren is involved in, the loss of one minor human colony is literally only the edge of the storm cloud."

Shepard leaned forward, as the volus bartender and owner brought a ryncol for Wrex. "I'm listening, turian."

Tetrimus placed taloned fingers together, his voice low. "The Shadow Broker has been observing Saren for quite some time now. His actions don't make sense, and there are periods where he gets from point A to point B in a fifth of the time it should take to conduct such FTL travel. Saren is hiring many, many mercenaries, buying up large stocks of supplies and weapons, and running multiple operations on far flung worlds. His … partner … Benezia, is doing the same. There are strange patterns in the data. Raids on volus ships. Confusing stock purchases. The occasional bizarre disappearance or unsolved murder involving someone who knew Saren well. Until we received the information that Miss Zorah has, we thought this was just ...unusual. Not worthy of real intelligence assets."

Tetrimus sighed. "We were wrong. And it appears we were blinded due to elements of another intelligence service counter infiltrating our ranks. Clearly, Fist is not the only leak we have in our ranks. As such, I'm afraid we're going to have to shutter and close down a great many operations. This is going to leave us blind to what transpires, and as such we think we need .. how do you humans put it … ah. Skin in the game. Yes."

Shepard nodded, her eyes not leaving the glowing orb of the turian. "In what way?"

Tetrimus chuckled. "For now, our main concern is to get this data into the hands of the Council, so that they can at least remove Saren's Spectre status. This will allow us to focus our energies as an organization directly against those we suspect are hindering us. But the Shadow Broker doubts that if you just take this to the Council that they will pay it any heed. A renegade C-sec detective, accompanied by a bloodthirsty human who works for a man who hates Saren, a krogan mercenary, and a quarian teenager. It sounds more like a comedy show than a serious issue."

The turian leaned back. "We have an interest in this. You might even call it an angle. The Broker feels that whatever Saren is doing is dangerous. Dangerous enough that we cannot afford to be caught unprepared again. Thus, I've been ordered to ensure the Council does not bury it's collective head in the sand on this issue, and that no one tries to ignore this evidence. I will accompany you in your trip to meet the Council. They will not doubt the bona fides I have at my call, not when all three of them know full well the Broker has facts on them that would put them in serious danger or ruin their careers."

Shepard nodded. "And you speak for the Broker."

Tetrimus nodded. "Precisely. The Broker is alarmed enough at Saren's activities that he is willing to contribute what he knows gratis to the Council and to the Systems Alliance."

Wrex's eyes narrow. "That's … very rare."

Tetrimus flicked his one mandible in amusement. "I've only seen it once before, myself. In any event, Commander, our requirements are simple. We will provide evidence proving that the drell assassin who killed your witness was indeed hired by Saren. Additionally, we will certify the veracity of Miss Zorah's data, although I'm sure C-Sec will be called upon to analyze the voice print." Tetrimus lifts his face to the dim light, and gives a turian half-smile, his ghastly visage looking stone-like in profile. "And in return, the Shadow Broker only asks that we be allowed to send an observer along with whatever force is dispatched to go after Saren, to clean up any further breaches of our network."

She arches an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem like a lot to ask."

Tetrimus sips his drink calmly. "You clearly haven't spent a long journey with krogan, Shepard. Wrex, your assignment is on that pad I gave you - follow this situation through until Saren is a smear. Triple combat pay and a large enough bonus for you buy your own light cruiser. All expenses paid."

The turian rose, stepping away. "Now, if you will excuse me, it has been an _exceedingly_ fatiguing day, and I must make my reports to the Broker. I believe you have a meeting with the Council tomorrow morning , Shepard.. I will meet you then." With a step into the dark corner near the booth, the turian was gone. Wrex glanced at the pad in his hands and just sighed.

Shepard grunted. "We'd better go inform Anderson and Udina of this. Alenko and I are still pretty beaten up from Eden Prime. Tali, I'm sure he'll find a safe place for you to rest tonight, if you don't mind coming with us to the human embassy." Tali stared at Shepard for a moment, then nodded. "I didn't... I mean, that is, yes. I don't have anywhere else to .. stay. And after what I just went through... someplace safe sounds good." Shepard then turned to Wrex. "You need a place to crash as well?"

The krogan shook his head. "Nah, I got a hotel , Broker's paying for it. Here's my contact freq if you need me. I need .. .to think about this contract offer. Carefully."

Shepard nodded, grimacing. Garrus glanced between the two of them. "Well, Shepard, I am.. gratified I was able to help you get a solid lead on that bastard Saren, but I don't expect Pallin will be assigning me to anything anytime soon. I'm to have an investigative hearing in a few days." He extended a gloved hand, and Shepard shook it. "Good luck with that, Detective. You aren't a bad shot." Shepard nodded respectfully, and the turian nodded. "Lieutenant. Ma'am. Wrex, stay out of trouble." With that , Garrus got up and walked to the exit, back straight, head held high.

Wrex chuckled. "Talk about a stick up the ass. But at least he tries, unlike most of the useless, blue-cloaked cowards." Wrex drained the last of his ryncol. "Staying a while? We could catch up on who's the better killer." Shepard smirked, and shook her head. "Nope. I should definitely report this to Anderson, so he can contact Udina and get whatever needs to be done, done. And I need to get Tali to Udina's offices. I'll see you ...when I see you, Wrex."

The krogan only nodded, already turning his attention to Doran. "More ryncol! I've had a shitty day and I still haven't had my damned first cup of jaaki yet."


	28. Chapter 22 : Cole

**A/N:** _Sorry for the pause in updates, but I must have re-written this chapter four or five times before it felt right_. _If you read no other chapter in this entire fic to understand my Shepard, read this one. _

* * *

January 24, 2183 – 3:00 AM

The Normandy was silent, most of the crew still on shore leave. Only a minimal crew was aboard – 3 shifts of a single operations tech to manage fleet communications and security checks, and a port and starboard watch of 2 engineers to mind the core and support systems. Even Joker and Chakwas were ashore, the latter helping out with Alliance Medical teams at Huerta Memorial with some of the more dire Eden Prime injuries that had been med-evaced to the Citadel for specialized care.

Ashley Williams stared at the meal ration distributed into 4 unappealing warm blobs on the thin plastic tray, picking at the purported 'Salisbury steak' with a fork.

_Damn, and here I was thinking chow sucked in the 2 Frontier, too. _

She lifted her fork above the tray, watching disinterestedly as the brownish slime slowly dropped back into the rest of the meal with a syrupy plop.

"Look on the bright side, Chief. Easy to keep a trim figure when nothing you are given to eat looks like anything you want to eat." Alenko came into view from her right, crossing the small mess to sit across from her, a cup of something minty smelling in his hands, dark hair laying flat from a recent shower.

"Yeah, I _guess._" She forced herself to eat a bite, and then winced. "Tastes like someone tried to boil a shoe and fucked up the recipe. Anyways , LT, whatcha doing up on the midnight watch? Figured you'd be ashore." She smiled as he ran his hands through his hair, glad for the company.

Kaiden shrugged. "Headaches. Always a problem of mine, especially when I overdo it with the biotics. I guess I should be grateful, all things considered, a lot of L2's had worse side effects than just headaches...but they tend to get bad, and make me a bit irritable. The Citadel is too full of crowds. Some peace , quiet, a bit of mint tea, and tinkering about the ship to distract myself – it all tends help out with the pain." He took a sip of the mentioned tea, wincing. "Well, sometimes it helps with the pain. Sometimes nothing helps."

Ashley gave a sympathetic look. "We only had one biotic in the 212, Sergeant Urden. Something went wrong with his implant, he didn't have much, uh, biotic strength. He could do a few neat things with a barrier, but that's about it. I know he had really bad nosebleeds and headaches a lot. And he ate like twice as much as everyone else. He talked about how his last command, a dreadnaught, was soo much more exciting than watching weeds grow on Eden Prime." Alenko nodded. "But he was just...y'know, another grunt. Nothing really special. I guess I was expecting everything on a ship to be more..." She trailed off.

Alenko gave a thin smile. "Exciting? Mysterious? Exotic? Chief, the only mystery is who in the blackest hell would call soy pudding 'Salisbury steak.'

Williams gave a throaty laugh, and took a bite of the goop, then made a face. Her lips quirked, and she shrugged. "I just.. I dunno. Never had a space-side billet before, LT." Her face fell a little , and she glanced away. "Not that I'll be getting to stick around after we get a move on, but... it's a different sort of pace. Ground-side is the same stuff, over and over. Patrol the perimeter. Morning mess. Weapons maintenance. GMT and orders of the day. More patrol. Lunch. Inspection..."

Kaiden gave a wry smile, his eyes holding hers for a long moment. "Trust me, Williams. Space-side can get just as boring. Being the lead MCO isn't much better than having a very tiny ground command. I mean, granted, mostly our marines stand watch at doors, pop salutes at the CO and XO, then rack out. There's still weapons cleaning, and inspection."

Ashley harrumphed. "But it's _space, _sir." She paused, a distant , almost distracted look on her face, and then recited something, her voice soft, almost reverent.

"And I have dared the Distances  
Where the red planets race-  
And I have seen that Near and Far  
and god and Man and Avatar  
And Life and Death but one thing are-  
And I have seen this wingless world  
Curst with impermanence and whirled  
Like dust across the Summer swirled,  
And I have seen this world a star  
All wonderful in Space!"

Alenko arched an eyebrow. "Never figured you for a poet, Williams. Afraid I can't place it, though."

Williams grinned. "Don Marquis, sir. Called the Mystic. My father was big on classical arts. Tennyson, Swinburne, Wordsworth..." She smiled. "Marquis is a touch rare, the poem never really appeared in any of Tennyson's collections. I forget where I first heard it, but it fits. I've been hauled to four different planets, each one it's own .. " She trailed off, making a vague spinning gesture with both hands.

Alenko's eyebrow arched again. "Rotational period? Color? Spirit?" He leaned forward, head at an angle, and smirked. "Smell?"

Williams laughed, and pushed her tray away. "Spirit, I guess." Picking up the food tray, she got up , walking with a confident and athletic sway as she dumped the entire thing into the recycling slot. For a moment her profile was illuminated by the lights of the recycling status screen, casting into relief the strong, elegant jaw, the almost noble cast to her features...the sashay of her hips as she bent over to drop the now empty tray onto the stack...

Alenko glanced away. _Down boy. The only thing worse than thinking about doing the Deed is thinking about it with a woman who can kick your ass. _He focused instead on sipping his tea, feeling the warmth slowly push back at the tight, angry knot of pain at the base of his skull. He was both relieved and frustrated when Ashley sat back down at the table with him. "Alright Chief, you've piqued my interest. Why are _you_ up on the midwatch?"

Williams smiled, but it was a brittle thing. "A head too full of bad memories to sleep. The 212 wasn't a perfect place...but it was closer to home than I'd been in a long time. The CO was an asshole, and the XO was just dialing it in most days, but Lieutenant Parker and the Master Sergeant really tried to keep us motivated and … just watching everyone die so fast was .. hard." Her strong hands closed into fists on the tabletop, and she looked down, eyes dark with pain. "So goddamned fast. Right before you showed up...I really thought we were about to die. Nirali went up in a bonfire, I wasn't quick enough to pull her back into cover after she got tossed out of cover by a grenade. Jones..."

She gave a little laugh, mixed in with a tiny unsteady note. "Jones had gotten this monster of a shotgun from some customs guy...it wasn't even street legal, much less something that met regs, but the LT let him use it. He loved that gun..."

Kaiden only nodded. "I wish we could have gotten there faster. Done .. something. As it was..."

Williams shook her own head, pushing back a strand of dark brown hair that fell across her somber features. "Would it have mattered, much? If it hadn't been for Shepard going buck-wild on those Geth we'd have all ended up like Jenkins anyway." She leaned forward. "I gotta admit,when I saw her, I didn't know WHAT the hell to expect. What's she like? I mean... you know. To work with."

Kaiden scratched his head. "It's...well, to be honest, I don't really think anyone knows. The ship is so new the paint on the name was still drying when we pulled out. Shepard had only been assigned that day, she didn't even have time to do a full walk-through." He drained his cup, and put a hand to the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. "And I'm not sure that we **can** understand her. She's not like most of the commander's you see as XO's. It's like trying to understand a hurricane, or a supernova. She just seems to … happen." He shook his head. "Now I sound like an awestruck fanboy. Great."

Ashley grinned. "I get that, LT. I just... the vids and the stories are all so over-the-top. The rumors you hear are all over the place. We had one guy in the 235 – the other infantry team with us on Eden Prime – who had served under her at Torfan. Everyone was always asking about her but he had nothing to say except "she got the job done." But one night he gets smashed, I mean...really, really drunk. The shore patrol doesn't stop them from drinking until they get violent...and Joe was a quiet drunk."

Ashley paused, smiling a little with memory, and Alenko nodded. "I bet that ended well." His voice was sarcastic, but Williams shrugged, and coughed.

"Like I said, he was usually a quiet drunk. He was going on about the Alliance and how crooked they were, and someone insulted Shepard. Joe was .. pissed. He was talking about how they sent everyone in to fail and to die, something about if Torfan had blown up the Alliance would have canceled colonization because of the risk, and how Shepard pretty much took on the entire batarian army with a broken stick and discovered the Mass Relays single handedly."

Alenko laughed, he couldn't help it as it escaped him. "Well, people do like to build up a hero, I suppose." He chuckled again, then sighed. "I can get how people get...upset with her, though. She's so … cold, as if she doesn't even see what people feel or are going through. How do you get by with day to day life with nothing to life for, nothing happy to look back on, everything that has a chance of bringing happiness or meaning something to you being snatched away..."

He trailed off , thinking of Joker's conversation with him. Williams sighed and tilted her head. "Dunno. But she's... cold isn't the right word, sir. I had a little bit of a breakdown, I guess , earlier. The .. what went down on Eden Prime just kinda all hit me at once. I guess I expected her to just say get over it. And she did, kind of. . . the way she did it wasn't all touchy feely. She said I couldn't blame myself. That doing that just ended up making you go crazy and lash out instead of being able to remember the good with the bad. That … those we leave behind still died Marines, and that we have to remember them, too, because they'd want us to be happy."

Williams smiled a moment, pain still in her eyes but clearly thinking about one of those good moments, and Alenko reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. _Living past something like that takes both guts and a strong heart. Don't know that I could do the same, _Alenko mused. Williams took a deep breath and said "I'm cool".

Alenko nodded, pulling back. He got up, stretching, going to the meal area to refill his mint tea. Williams leaned back , angling herself on the mess hall bench so she could rest her back against the wall. "It's funny. She wanted me to let go of the hate, but she said she never could. But it looks like she pulled it off before. I mean, all the stupid vids on ANN showed her as this hard as nails criminal who found justice, duty, honor and the Alliance Pride." She snickered. "I shouldn't mock it...my whole family has always been military. In the blood for generations. But .. you get what I'm saying, LT? She makes me feel pretty damned inadequate, then has the insight to give me advice?"

Alenko , still musing while fixing his mint tea, casually said "Oh, I think you're more than adequate , Chief." He blinked, realizing what had just came out of his mouth, and Williams gave a wicked grin. "Why LT, I never knew you cared."

Alenko ruefully scratched the back of his head , trying and failing at not blushing. "Ah.. that is...well, you know what I mean. Not too many people survive what you went through on Eden Prime, Williams. I think Shepard has a good point. We either define ourselves by what makes us better, by the good times and the things we fight for, or we end up defined by our scars. Biotics have … a sort of rough time. People misunderstand what we are, how we live, what we can do. Growing up with the talent is never easy. You never fit in. You end up with no real options but going into the military. But you have to make the most of it, or you get consumed by bitterness."

Williams nodded. "A point. Still . . .I just wonder where this all ends. If you move on .. I mean, what happens next? I don't expect the universe to shed many tears over the 212, but it is all I knew in away. Now? I'm on some super-advanced starship, at the Citadel, and going to see the rulers of the galaxy in the morning."

She rubbed at her temples with her fingers."It's only been a few days since Eden Prime and everything's gone weird. I figured space-side duty would be a lot of pew-pew-pew and seeing weird alien planets. Not that seeing the Citadel is a small thing...it just kind of puts everything about all the aliens in perspective. They have this huge station, all these big issues...humanity is just the FNG in the equation. The fact that lots of people died on Eden Prime doesn't even probably register with these people. Aliens. Whatever."

Alenko sat down. "Not a big fan of aliens?"

Williams shrugged. "Never had to deal with them. Personally, that is. And … it's hard to tell the animals from the people, sometimes. Not a real big fan of turians, and to be honest what I saw in the Council chamber didn't really improve my opinion of asari and salarians either. It doesn't help that the blues all look like joygirls and I keep expecting the salarians to show up in flying saucers to vivisect a cow or something."

Alenko bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking, and Williams smirked. "I .. I don't consider myself a bigot, if that's what you are asking, sir. I figure we all have our place. Terra First is just a bunch of Klanners who got tired of beating up minorities and moved on to alien-hating. That's never the right answer." She pauses, forehead wrinkling in thought, then gives a sort of shrug. "I just think the Alliance has to do what everyone else is clearly doing, and take care of it's own business first. If we had a stronger fleet guarding the colonies instead of trying not to build up so we don't alarm the aliens, maybe we'd have less raids...and enough ships and men to have stopped the Geth."

Alenko shook his head. "I don't know about that. From the size of that dreadnaught, I'd want more than a few frigates and another division backing me up. And we're not just pandering to aliens , Chief. If we go it alone, like the batarians have, we're the only big losers. No trade, less jobs, a smaller economy. And we're the obvious target when things go south. It's always better to be part of the crowd, even if it's just on the edges, than the one kid standing by himself in the corner."

Ashley swung her legs down off the bench, sitting up straight again. "Maybe. Above my pay-grade,sir. I just shoot things and look good."

A harsh voice spoke up from the background. "Aw, hell, Ash, stop flirting with the goddamned LT. Next you'll be spouting poetry and playing that stupid 'Imma thoughtful soldier' garbage you trotted out on Parker." Williams spun, and grinned as the battered but hale form of Master Chief Cole approached, eye still bandaged, midsection covered in more bandages, but alive. "Chief!"

Cole staggers to the mess hall bench next to Williams and gingerly eases himself down. The ground-side BDU's he wears are dark Alliance blue, but done in solid shades instead of the digital camo pattern of space-side uniforms that Alenko and Williams have on. "I don't suppose this tub has any coffee, does it? I clearly ain't getting any sleep in the medbay with you two talking."

Williams gets up. "Stay put, Greg, I'll get you some." She goes to the dispensers, and starts the process of brewing. "Black , right?"

"Yeah.". Cole's dark features turn to Alenko. "Sir."

Alenko waves it off. "It's just Alenko when we're not underway, Master Chief, or LT if you have to. It's good to see you up and around. You took some pretty hard hits down there."

Cole tsked, his hand rubbing the stubble on his jaw. "Nothing I ain't lived through before, LT. I came to this afternoon, the doc said they'd hauled our lieutenant and Jones off to some hospital on the Citadel, and the crew and CO were ashore trying to get the Council to do something about Eden Prime. The major was kind enough to turn the vidscreen on for me before she went ashore, the news is...pretty damned grim. "

Alenko nodded. The last of his headache was gone, but he sipped his tea all the same, the taste reminding him of better times in the past. "Yeah, it's not good. Over 30,000 dead. Another couple of thousand wounded. Investigators have been picking through the ruins for hours , but only found a bare handful of survivors. They confirmed every single member of the 235 died. From the reports, not a single one of them broke. They took out 3 times their number in geth before being.. overwhelmed."

Cole glanced away, closing his good eye. "Stupid, brave bastards. Dammit." He clenched his fist. "I've been doing this shit for almost 30 years. I saw some of those kids grow up. Dandled a couple on my knee. _Trained_ some of them in boot. Watched them get promoted, start families. Show me pics of their own kids. Then I got to watch them die, against a foe no one ever trained to fight, and I still don't know why."

Williams came back with a navy mug full of dark coffee, which Cole took gratefully, blowing on it to cool it before taking a sip. "Still crappy, but definitely less crappy than the grinds ground-side." He takes another sip, grimacing and wiping his mouth. "Anyway, what's going on? I figured we'd have lifted off of the Citadel by now."

Alenko shook his head. "Shepard believes we've got enough evidence now to go after the guy who started this mess." He summarized the Council's reaction, the discovery of Fist's involvement in the clinic, the battle in Chora's Den.

At the mention of Wrex, the older black sergeant gave a sharp frown. "Wrex? Big meaty krogan bastard? Red armor? Looks like a pissed off turtle?" Cole's expression was thoughtful and wary, his head tilted as he leaned forward.

Alenko tilted his head. "Yeah, Shepard knew him from before. Did you?"

Cole grunted. "The fuck was at Torfan. Figures she would recognize him."

Williams eyes widened. "You were at Torfan, Greg? You never said anything all those times the topic came up, or when people prodded Joe."

Cole gave a bitter little smile. "And that's exactly why, Ash. Torfan ain't _nothing_ to talk about."

There was a long, empty moment of silence, and then Cole gave a disgusted grunt. "Oh, fine … look, Torfan wasn't something that most people got. They see the vids, hear the stupid reports, and say to themselves "Well it was a sacrifice" or some other trite bullshit. Torfan was a complete, goddamned clusterfuck. It's what happens when a pack of REMF's tries to get fancy and gets a bunch of us line animals killed for no other reason than shitty intel. And there was a lot of talk that the SA set us up to die out there, for political reasons or some such shit."

He coughed, wearily. "I don't really want to talk about Torfan. But I remember Wrex. Everyone does. Bastard was a merc the batarians hired, him and pack of other krogan. He must have taken apart most of an N7 special ops team singlehandedly. But when the batarians said they'd kill the damned kids if we didn't back off, he went fucking nuts. " The master chief actually gave a cold little smile at some memory. "Killed one of their commanders, actually. Tore the stupid bastard in half like a piece of paper. Then turned the artillery he was guarding against the batarians. And then him and the other krogan just … quit."

Alenko arched an eyebrow. "He mentioned something about that to Shepard when they were chatting. Did you happen to know her from Torfan?"

Cole shook his head. "Naw, Shepard was under some prick named Kyle. I was actually part of the engineering support force they attached to the main strike teams , providing fire support. Thank all gods we had our own CO and chain of command. I saw her from a distance, once or twice, and we helped get what was left of her strike team out when it was all over, but I didn't know her except through rumor and story. But if Eden Prime was any indication, she hasn't lost a step."

Williams nodded. "Most people won't talk about Torfan, Greg. Why? It can't just be that it was messy."

The master chief didn't reply for a long moment, sipping his coffee. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and full of pain. "Torfan was a victory we paid for in a lot of blood. And a lot of Marines felt _betrayed_ by the Alliance for putting us there. Felt betrayed by the media either calling Shepard a butcher for doing what needed to be done, or praising her for that stupid last assault. Shepard won it, the only way it could be won. We all hated her for that, and understood that if she hadn't done what she did every last marine on that rock would have died, instead of just 70% of them. It doesn't make it easier.

He sighed, expression twisting. "Then the brass tried to play it off like some kind of major victory, handed out awards like candy, making it into a propaganda piece. It was disgusting. Torfan wasn't like the Normandy invasions, or Gettysburg, or Sao Paulo during the Riots, or Cannae. Those all had a cost, but a clear result. The only thing Torfan did was convince the damned slavers that the Alliance was ready and willing to sacrifice tens of thousands of men in badly coordinated attacks to make a point. "

With another sip of coffee, he bitterly smiled. "And that Shepard was no one to be fucked with, but by that point we all knew that anyway. No, Torfan is defined by the last 20 minutes, when she took the last of the N7's she had with her and cleaned the batarians out of the command bunker they took. Alliance brass wanted them captured...and the men wanted to BBQ the fucks. Shepard .. just shot them in the head. Gave that quote she's famous for."

Alenko nodded. "Sic semper sceleratis. Thus ever to criminals." Alenko looked back up at the Master Chief. "If it was hard on everyone, how do you think it affected her?"

The master chief drained his coffee, his dark features set in grim lines. "Williams has a piece of fancy poetry that covers that perfectly, I think. Go on, impress the LT. Come not when I am dead." Williams gave the chief a long, uncomfortable, look, then spoke, her voice quiet in the stillness of the mess hall.

"Come not, when I am dead,  
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,  
To trample round my fallen head,  
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.  
There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou, go by."

The chief nodded, and pulled a cigar out of his uniform top. "There you have it, kiddo. LT, where's the smoking pit on this ship?"

Alenko blinked. "I'm , ah..."

A hard voice cut through the silence. "Forward engineering port side, by the air exchanger, master chief. Got an extra?" Sara Shepard leaned almost insolently against the wall, uniform crisp and clean, eyes cool and measuring.

Alenko winced, Williams looked worried, and Cole patted his pocket. "Yeah, I got 2 or 3 more, Commander. You'll have to show me where engineering is, though." He rose, leaving behind his cup, which Williams grabbed for him.

Shepard nodded, casting a gaze over Alenko and Williams. "You should try to get some sleep, tomorrow is likely to be ugly." Turning almost mechanically on her heel, she lead the older master chief to the elevator, not saying anything as the doors slid shut, the voices of Alenko and Williams fading into the distance.

Cole was silent a long moment before he turned to her and spoke, his voice low."How much you hear, Commander?"

She shrugged. "Enough. I hope they _never_ understand Torfan. But it's hard ... talking to them because of that. They want something I can't give. Or understand." She glanced at him , scrutinizing his features, and nodded again. "I remember you now. You were with the 3 Engineer Group."

Cole looked surprised for a moment, then closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, I was, ma'am. Didn't think you'd recognize me." Her voice was all too calm. "I never forgot a single face from Torfan, Chief."

The elevator slid open and Shepard walked to the left, through the port side hatch. A set of large, hexagonal air filters was set into the ceiling, the faint hum of motors and electrically powered filters filling the narrow hallway. The armored deck was free of debris, but already a few black marks marred the deck where someone has extinguished a cigarette. "Not too many people smoke nowdays. I should quit, it's bad for your health." Cole's voice was wry as he handed a cigar to Shepard, who took it and unsheathed her belt knife.

Shepard's voice was cool but amused as she spoke. "Everyone buys that farmland sometime, MC. Might as well shoot it like you stole it before you fill out the AD 960."

Cole laughed darkly at the reference to the battle cry of the 1st Infanty and the form that Alliance medical filled out for the death of a soldier. "Kind of a bleak attitude to have, Commander. Lots of people look up to you, see you as the example of the perfect soldier." He bit the end off his own cigar off, dropping the torn tip into the ashtray, and then lit his cigar, relaxing as the smoke hit his lungs.

Shepard snorted, neatly trimming the tip of her own cigar and putting her knife away. "More fool them. Borrow your light? Thanks." She lit her own, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall with a weary, almost sorrowful exhalation of breath, her lean form seeming to soften. "Goddammit, haven't had a smoke since I left Almor." She reopened her eyes, cold blue dots lancing into the master chief. "And if soldiers want an example, the Alliance has Branson for that, the mincing fuck."

Cole snorted. "Ain't nobody gonna really believe in that Aryan blond-haired pile of fluff. Oh, he's good for stupid kids to follow, to get some blockhead to sign up, or for groundpounders who think patrolling some dirt pile on the darkside of a moon you might as well stamp with a corporate logo is military service. Not talking about them."

Cole inhaled , his heavy features thoughtful, as he rubbed the bandage over his eye. "The people who've been through the _shit_, seen the fires from the piles of corpses on Mindoir, had to dig through children stacked like fucking cordwood at Anmos because the slavers couldn't get a profit from them... the soldiers who had to die by the fucking tens of thousands on a dozen shitty worlds. Those are the ones who look up to you." His voice grew thoughtful. "You have fire, Commander. You can't pay someone to give a fuck, and the marine in the trenches knows that."

Shepard inhaled and blew out blue smoke, her lips twisting. "Then they're even stupider than the greenhorns. Christ and Virgin, I get so sick of the fucking killing sometimes. Of the endless blood, and having adrenaline drain out of me after a fight and realize nine of my guys are dead and I have to tell their wives or look their little kid in the eye. I dream 'bout just...finally buying it. Going up against something that takes me right the fuck out. No heroics, just blam! Dead. The funeral will be long, boring, full of speeches by people who never held a goddamned trench with me. They'll trot out some tired fucker with admirals bars... "

She paused to take another drag, eyes narrow and dark "...and he'll go on some fucking spiel about my incredible sense of timing and valor. I'd rather fuck an elcor."

Cole puffed amiably, shrugging. "Didn't say you had to like it. But it's the truth, sir. Not a lot of other figured to look up to. I mean, there's Jackson, but he's old. Hackett is tough, but he's space navy. Delacor-"

She sneered. "Fuck Delacor. Weak, simpering, crying **victim**. I don't give a shit. Yeah, it's too bad your colony got wiped and some giant worms ate your unit, but people have been fucked over and out harder than that. Overcoming fucking adversity doesn't make you a hero."

Cole shrugged again. "It doesn't? Doesn't it say something about your will?"

She shook her head. "It says you're too stupid to just die. It's like these stories about some crippled kid who overcomes a physical deformity to achieve something banal. I don't give a shit that some stupid bastard born without a torso helps out with gardens in his community, or a stuttering wreck with a face that looks like a krogan punched it and the brains of a vorcha got a GED." She inhaled again, angrily, tendrils of smoke pushing out of her nostrils like the breath of an angry dragon. "It's all jingoistic bullshit pushed on people who need a fucking example to feel better about themselves."

Cole leaned back against the other wall. "Never figured you for angry."

Shepard looked up, then gave a tiny little smile, the fire dying in her eyes. "The mediocrity of it offends me, master chief. I was used by monsters. And then in freeing myself, I became a monster. And in trying to stop being a monster of one kind, I simply transferred my leash to a new holder. I'm not heroic. A hero risks dying because he has something to **live** for. They do what's right because it's _right_, not because they are trying to get bad memories out of their head. A hero puts others in front of himself. Anderson is a hero. I'm just a very skilled, angry thug that the Alliance points at problems they want beaten to death."

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No, I get to watch some poor bastard die because I failed to get there in time. I get a fantastic front-row seat to each and every failure and atrocity to my name, to watch men and women who depend on me to lead them, and then die when I have to sacrifice them, because some old bastard on Arcturus won't spend the funds to get us better long-range detection, or more ships,or proper hard suits. I go in to stop pirates with half the fucking men I need, and to get the job done I have to spend lives like cash in an asari whorehouse." She leaned her head against the wall, reveling in the coolness of the metal. "I don't need anyone looking up to **me**."

The master chief puffed on the cigar, knocking the ash into the little tray someone thoughtfully had welded to the wall. "I don't know. Those two up there look up to you, and they've seen you in action."

She shook her head. "They don't understand me anymore than they do a fucking mass relay. How can you explain to people who've never seen real goddamned evil what it feels like? To feel dirty, like you can shower a thousand days and still have a film of ... filth on you."

Cole's expression darkened, and he glanced away. "Yeah... I know that too well."

Shepard folded her arms, cigar dangling from narrow lips. "And did you get past it, master chief? Did you have a magical happy ending where you discovered love, peace, and harmony?"

Cole looked the angry woman in the eye. "No, ma'am. I just decided to stop holding myself in the past over bullshit I couldn't change. Got married. Had two good boys. Decided the only thing I could do to get past it all is leave something behind I could feel clean about."

Shepard made a weary gesture with her free hand, taking a deep drag. "Some of us don't have that option, Cole. Some of us are trapped in this nightmare forever , part and parcel of the whole propaganda package of shit. Sorry, but I can't take that as any kind of answer. I'll stick with anger." She scrubbed out the fire on her cigar, and tucked the remainder in her upper left uniform pocket. "Thanks for the leaf, though."

Cole nodded. "Commander, I know they took Jones and our LT off to some hospital on the Citadel...but what about Williams and I? I don't know if you've had a chance to look at her record... " He trailed off , hesitantly.

"Oh, _that _bullshit? I most certainly have. Motherfucking REMFs using some shit that happened 30 fucking years ago to her grandfather to sideline a good soldier? Look, Master Chief. I'm not going to build anyone up here. I'm not good with people, or praise, or all that shit. But anyone who can fire a Revenant one-handed is no one to fuck with, and Williams was taking down geth and keeping her shit together after watching her entire unit die and her friend melt like an ice cream cone. I've already asked Anderson to reassign you both to the Normandy."

Cole grinned. "That's going to piss the brass off...they really have a hard on for the Williams family."

Shepard ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. "The fuckers can kiss my ass. General Williams made the only call he could. Either some die or everyone dies, and everyone dying doesn't win shit. The fact that some ass-kisser feels his goddamned honor was stained means jack shit all to me." She shook her head, and then glanced at the chrono on her wrist. "You should get back to your rack, too, Chief. If I'm right, the shit we got for the Council will convince them to go after Saren, so I figure sooner or later the Alliance will give us something else to do. And if that pointy-faced fuck is really allied with the geth, they'll probably hit another colony, and we'll have to save it. You in for that?"

Cole snorted, and clenched his cybernetic hand. "Hoo rah, sir. I'd **love** a rematch with those walking lamps."


	29. Chapter 23 : Spectre

**A/N:** _Sorry for chapter length. I've been writing on this one a while. Again I was tempted to break it into two pieces, but they flow together more naturally like this. _

_And don't worry, the action will get really crazy for a few chapters. From the creator of** Bowling for Geth** , **Mofo Punched a Geth Prime**, and **Biotic WWF Smackdown**, the next craze in Shepardmania will be the Biotic Lava Surfing and Mofos Suplexed a Armature! And the Mako, my beloved Mako. _

_But first? The Extranet reacts to Shepard as Spectre. That means haptic image macros, and memes, and very, **very** confused aliens. _

_I'm happy that tons of people are adding this to their notifications and favorite stories, well over **300** by the emails. I can only assume the low number of actual reviews is proof I am doing something right. Still, more feedback about what you'd like to see or how I could improve is always welcome. _

* * *

January 25th, 2183 – 10:00 AM

Shepard waited patiently in the anteroom of the private Council Chambers, arms folded, eyes closed. Little more than a vaulted , steel-framed atrium, it at least had a stunning view of the Wards spread out. Alenko and Williams were wide-eyed at the view, the latter pointing out the huge, yonic shape of the Destiny Ascension, while next to them Tali was playing amateur ship spotter, identifying turian and salarian vessels. Wrex and Garrus leaned against opposite walls, alien feature set in what could have been boredom.

Standing next to her, Udina's posture was more relaxed, but his eyes were narrowed, and his mouth compressed into a thin line. "I'm still not sure the Council will even agree to hear us out, Commander. Going to the Shadow Broker for evidence was … risky in the extreme. Firefights in a medical clinic? A raid on a civilian bar? Inciting a C-Sec officer to get involved in a human investigation?" His dispassionate eyes ranged over the aliens. "And I'm not sure why you felt the need to bring all of these … aliens. It's like the lead in to a bad joke about bars."

Shepard shrugged, turning to give the Ambassador a cool glance. "I didn't see that we had many options. We both know if I go in there with nothing more than what I saw from the Beacon, they'll dismiss me a crazy lunatic. And I can't just go in there and say 'Hi! We got this data from an untrustworthy criminal spy-lord who would like to dictate to you how to respond and if you don't he plans to blackmail you'. Things will look far more plausible if we can just present it in a calm, organized manner." Her voice is a touch acerbic, but calm.

Udina gave a long suffering sigh. "Shepard, try to work with me here. Despite what you put forth, your aura of cold killer does not invalidate that you are clearly intelligent and familiar with how the politics of this works. It doesn't matter if you're calm or not. The Council cannot move on anything but rock-solid evidence. And even with rock-solid evidence, they're likely to want to poke holes in it. I have no intention of allowing them to humiliate me a second time."

Shepard shrugged, gesturing to Garrus , sitting in his dress armor on the narrow couch along the wall. "I submitted it to C-Sec and had their Data Analysis division authenticate it. Additionally, Tali can explain how she got it from the geth, and the Shadow Broker's representative will vouch for it with corroborating information. That's about as rock solid as you get, sir. I can't just walk away from this, sir." Udina scowled. "Granted. But it doesn't put the Council in any better of a position even if they do accept it. They're going to have to eat crow, after that .. farce of a hearing they gave us yesterday. And the ramifications of what it means for Saren to be dirty...it will be hard for them to admit they were wrong."

Shepard tilted her head. "I'd have thought you'd enjoy that part." Udina gives her a sharp look, then shakes his head with a small but clearly amused smile. "Oh, trust me, Commander, I intend to shove every single one of their words into their smug faces. But even if that works out, even if they decide to strip him of his Spectre status, they still won't move on sending their fleets into the Traverse to secure our colonies." Shepard shrugged. "That's not going to solve the problem anyway, sir. On that, I have to agree with them. The key to a static defense of a large perimeter is small forces you can afford to sacrifice at a wide distance, with your heavy response unit in the middle. You react to threats and pin down where the next attack is likely to occur."

Udina folded his arms, his dark brown suit shining dimly in the diffuse light of the antechamber. "That would sacrifice a lot of innocent lives in the name of expediency. That's not politically acceptable to the Senate. They want action, something they can point to." Shepard gave him a cold glare. "So it's more important to get an empty act that does nothing, protects nothing, solves nothing but is good PR rather than going after a real solution to the problem? To do something that will get more people killed just so some old men can make speeches about defending humanity? And people call _me_ inhuman?" Udina tightened his jaw. "Shepard, that outcome isn't what I'm in favor of, either. But I'm not the ruler of humanity. The people in the Senate are, and I can't force them to deal with the reality of the rest of the galaxy when they're only focused on re-election and corporate interests." Shepard sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Let's figure it out AFTER we convince them I'm not a lunatic, please? I'm not cut out for wheeling and dealing, but I've got an idea on how to make this work." Udina opened his mouth to speak, but the doors to the inner chamber opened at that point.

A salarian in a white uniform stuck his head out the opened doorway and spoke quietly. "Commander Shepard? Ambassador? They're ready for you." The two humans walked into the plush room beyond the door. A large vidscreen dominated the far wall, displaying graphical information and scrolling text along with a large image of the now-wrecked Beacon, it's once elegant lines truncated in an ugly angle about 3 feet from it's base. The floor was thinly carpeted, the ceiling's smooth curve broken by wide strips of soft white lighting and a broad strip of windows showing the towers of the Upper Wards in the distance. The room was circular, decorated in shades of silver and blue, with three large chairs in a semi-circle around a slightly elevated plinth. On the plinth was another chair, and behind it were several more chairs. In the corner, two salarians sat in front of terminals, obviously recorders of data. Sparatus , Tevos and Valern sat in the large chairs. The turian wore all black today, trimmed in red, a sort of robe with a heavy dark silver sash over his chest. Tevos wore yet another simple , form fitting down, this one a soft green, and a light filmy jacket of some shimmery material over it. Valern's heavy robes were white and gray , with heavy knobs of decoration along the hem, his STG bracers conspicuous, his hood down around his neck as he studied a set of data pads.

Shepard walked to the middle of the room, and came to attention. Sparatus gave her a dignified, respectful nod. "Please have a seat, Commander." His voice was polite, if slightly edged. Udina sat in a chair behind and to the right of Shepard, pulling up notes on his own data pad, and ran a hand through his thinning hair almost nervously. Tevos spoke, her voice gentle. "Before we say anything else , Commander.. I personally want to thank you for your actions. I know the rulings and actions of this Council are sometimes hard to accept, especially for those races who feel they have no voice in our decision." She sighs. "But you did me a great personal favor by bringing to justice someone who has long defied the will of the Council, and in doing so gave me a personal sense of closure to a very ugly episode in my life."

Valern nodded in a twitchy fashion, his eyes liquid and dark. "Agreed. Commander, while we as a rule dislike those who propitiate the fist over the spoken word, when your name was considered for Spectre status, we reviewed your military history. While you have had to make unpleasant calls, we believe you did so correctly in all cases. And we have all reviewed the Eden Prime mission logs and vid-tapes extensively. Your quick actions and personal bravery prevented Eden Prime from becoming a dead world and aved the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. After further review, it is our finding that there was nothing you could have done to prevent the Beacon's destruction. Whoever activated it used a jury-rigged power supply that was timed to blow the thing to pieces. "

Sparatus gave a theatrical sigh. "Unfortunately, that puts us in the unpleasant situation that only two people accessed the beacon that we can question to find out it's contents. And Dr. Manuel Cayce has gone completely 'stark raving mad', as the doctor accompanying put it." Sparatus made an 'air-quotes' gesture as he spoke, drawing a look of veiled disgust from Udina. "We interviewed him an hour ago, and quiet frankly I'm not sure he even realized he wasn't on Eden Prime anymore. After he started drooling, there seemed to be no point in further communication." Shepard nodded. "He was that way when I arrived, sir, incoherently babbling about the end of all life. I think I comprehend why, though."

Tevos leaned forward. "You did glean something from the Beacon prior to it's destruction, then?" Shepard sighed. "I saw...something. Death , mostly. I'd call it a vision, but that feels in accurate. It was a collection of recordings of what looked to be some kind of massive invasion by synthetics. I saw burning cities, blown up ships, and a lot of running people – four eyes, sort of rangy looking." She paused. "There was a voice in the background, it called itself the Avatar of Understanding. It seemed to be trying to get me to … grasp something. Then the images just became completely horrific, and it felt like my head was going to explode. Bits of machinery melded into living beings. Terrible mutated … things that resembled the husk-creatures we killed on Eden Prime. And then a sharp, severing pain and nothing." Tevos leaned back, frowning. "Anything else?" Shepard hesitated. "Ma'am , what I saw is going to make me sound as if I'm crazy. I can't prove any of this."

Tevos gave a small smile. "That may not be accurate, commander. But why do you feel you would be taken as crazy by relaying what you saw? It sounds as if the Beacon is merely a recording of the extinction event of the Prothean civilization, which appears to have been at the hands of some kind of synthetic foe." Shepard shook her head. "No, ma'am. The voice said what ever was killing them was something called "Reapers" … and that they had taken the Citadel, and , well...ma'am, they looked like that giant black dreadnaught we recorded at the attack." Sparatus leaned forward with a drawn-in movement of his mandibles. "That seems... unlikely. Are you sure?"

Before Shepard could respond, Valern spoke up."Hardly unlikely. It would seem that whoever is behind this attack has found one of the ships – and possibly some of the technology – that was used to end the Protheans. It's likely the Protheans defeated this foe, but were so shattered by the war their civilization died out. It would explain the caches we continue to find, a last chance at passing on what they knew. Someone must have found one of these .. Reaper .. ships and is using it to control the geth. Or perhaps the geth found it."

Shepard gave a calm, easy shrug. "That's pretty much all of the vision, except .. a long montage of people being killed in a lot of horrible ways. I honestly am not surprised that Dr. Cayce buckled , I consider myself hardened to that sort of thing and more than once I've woken up from a nightmare with those images in my head. They are .. not pleasant." Tevos thoughtfully touched her lip. "This sounds much like the so-called 'Dark' Beacons we have found in the past. Anyone using them tends to go insane or die. Given that most of the time people accessing said 'Dark' Beacons were gentle , sheltered scientists and not hardened warriors..."She trailed off, the unspoken thought somewhat disquieting. Shepard tilted her head. "Where are these other Beacons?" Valern shrugged. "Destroyed. The Exogeni Corporation has the only remaining one, I forget where they kept it, trying to access it using non-sentient animals. The rest, well...they tended to kill anyone who got too close, and over time their area of effect grew. They were stored for a while here on the Citadel, until an unhappy batarian separatist got the bright idea to hook them up to power and place them in a public place...after the riots that occurred in Zakera Ward as a result, they were considered a risk not worth the effort to keep around."

Sparatus sighed. "So, no other data of use? No designs for weapons or ships of any kind?" Shepard shook her head. "No, sir. The beacon's message seemed incomplete, though. There could have been more, a lot more – but when it blew up , I was cut off. Whoever accessed it before me has the complete message and anything else that might have been on it. I can't imagine you haven't already worried about that issue." Sparatus nodded, but his expression was wary. "Our investigations are ongoing. Given the paucity of hard evidence in the case, however, I fear that question may never be answered before the next atrocity that occurs."

Shepard shook her head. "Councilors, I cannot ignore the warning inherent in the vision I witnessed. It was not merely some monument to loss. It was a warning, and a plea for help. It was trying to convey the sheer terror and power of the invaders and how nightmarish and total the extinction was. Whoever the Reapers were, they destroyed the entire Prothean civilization, a civilization who's achievements , like the mass relays, we can't even being to grasp." Shepard locked eyes with the turian councilor, gaze flat and calm. "Assuming whoever has this information can act on it, there is one more thing about what I saw that you should consider. The ship we saw on Eden Prime was singular. The vision showed ships just like that, hundreds of them, coming out of the skies like rain. If there is one ship like that out there that's fallen into someone's control, there could be more."

Valern visibly stiffened. "Not an optimal result, I agree. Rough analysis of the vessel, based on Normandy sensor data and ladar pings from colony GARDIAN network before it's destruction were highly disturbing. It was measured with an in-system speed 3 times faster than our most experimental , lightweight craft. Analysis of the arcology towers show they were sheared in half by a stream of super-molten metal, accelerated 10 times beyond the power of our best dreadnaught cannon. We can't even begin to calculate the firepower of such a weapon." Tevos nodded. "One such ship could wreak immense harm on the galactic community, especially in concert with the geth. More than one would be devastating. We'd have to mobilize the fleets." Sparatus shook his own head, mandibles flaring in irritation. "What for? The thing can outrun them. The only ships quick enough to keep any kind of pace with such a thing would have to have a huge eezo core and be so lightly armored as to be ineffective in damaging it."

Shepard smiled. "It seems like it would behoove the Council to find out who's in charge of that thing, wouldn't it?"

Tevos sighed. "The question is not being ignored, but as Sparatus said, our investigations are still ongoing."

Shepard frowned. "Councilor, I have been respectful and truthful in this conversation. I'm offended you would tell me a lie to my face." Tevos frowned, and Sparatus cocked his head. "What do you mean by that statement, Shepard?" Shepard smiled coldly. "I met Detective Vakarian last night. Funny thing. He implied that with a little more time he might have been able to dig up firmer evidence, but that the investigation was closed, and handed off to the STG. I think it's very clear that there is no investigation of this issue." Sparatus made a slashing gesture with his hand. "The purpose of this meeting is to discuss your interaction with the beacon, not our investigation or the proper group to carry it out."

Udina finally stood. "No, this meeting _has_no purpose if that's all we're discussing. The very ugly truth here is that in the few hours after our hearing, Commander Shepard with the help of non-Alliance, non-human personnel with no connection to Eden Prime, was able to find very firm evidence of exactly who is behind this violation of our colony and the geth attack. Given that whoever attacked the colony seemed to be looking for the Beacon, a Beacon giving a warning of invading forces with powerful ships,a Beacon that whoever attacked the colony destroyed, I think reopening this issue is quite important."

Tevos gave Shepard a hard,inquisitive look. "What do you mean by 'firmer evidence', Commander? We are not interested in vague financial missteps or eyewitness testimony that cannot be corroborated." Shepard tapped her omni-tool, and then looked at the Council. "I have my witnesses outside, if they might come in?" Tevos gestured to the door, and the Salarian standing their opened it, letting the group in the hallway in.

Tali stood immediately to Shepard's right, with Wrex behind her. Garrus moved next to Udina, and in the back, the black-cloaked form of Tetrimus was content to stand at a distance from everyone else. Sparatus examined them all briefly. "Explain this, Commander. We do not have all day." Shepard nodded. "After our hearing, I approached Detective Vakarian, who was in charge of the C-Sec investigation. My intent was simply to follow up on fragmentary leads of our own, but Detective Vakarian lead us to meet with Urdnot Wrex, a mercenary here on business for the Shadow Broker." Tevos gave a wince at the last name. "I do hope your evidence is not from the Broker, Commander. We are hardly going to take the word of an intergalactic thug." Shepard shook her head. "Of course not, ma'am." Coolly walking back and forth, she continued. "Wrex had a commission to investigate a local crime figure named Fist, who owned an...entertainment venue in the Bachrjet Lower Wards. Fist was a remote Broker agent as well, one that the Broker felt was double crossing him and selling data to Saren."

Shepard gestured to Tali. "This is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya." Tevos arched an eyebrow. "Zorah as in Admiral Rael'Zorah, the Migrant Fleet commander?" Tali nodded firmly. "My father, Councilor." Tevos nodded and Shepard continued. "While investigating geth activity on Caleston, Miss Zorah came across geth units. And upon destroying them, she was able to extract an audio file from one." Valern smiled, while Sparatus spluttered. "The geth self-destruct upon death! At least, that's what the records say." But Valern was nodding. "STG units have managed to isolate data at least once in dying geth armatures during deep penetrations of the Perseus Veil. Concept is possible." Tali took a small step forward, twisting her hands together. "Y-you have to be quick and careful, and it helps if the data is not binary flash memory. The geth I stumbled across were part of a long-chain information network, passing audio files through internal geth networks rather than openly. The geth felt the person they worked for could not be trusted and were saving off audio to prove he wasn't trustworthy to someone named Sovereign."

Shepard spoke. "Tali looked for a buyer for such data, not realizing it's import, and the Shadow Broker provided a price, and transport to the Citadel to seal the deal. Unfortunately, Fist was the contact that Tali was lead to, due to Fist interfering in the Broker's network. Captain Troyce was actually just the pilot who brought her here. She managed to escape, link up with Wrex, and was planning on delivering the data to the Broker when Fist managed to capture her with the clear intent of handing her over to Saren." Shepard spread her hands. "Wrex, myself and a member of my crew went to rescue her. In the process we discovered that Fist was working for Saren while also betraying the Broker. The Broker, as a result, sent a representative to bargain with us for the data and how it should be used."

Sparatus frowned. "Why not bring such solid proof to the Council?" Udina folded his arms. "Because after yesterday's hearing, much of the Systems Alliance government is in favor of simply withdrawing from Citadel space. Commander Shepard felt, correctly, that just handing you the information without context would have resulted in her being ignored." Shepard shrugged. "I gave a copy to Detective Vakarian to analyze for authenticity. It was verified accurate by C-Sec Data Analysis teams , twice. The Broker also vouches for it." Valern sighs. "Audio data hard to properly fake, especially with turians and hanar. Turian subharmonics almost impossible to duplicate and hanar non-text speech will not convey as audio."

Shepard nodded to Tali, who turned on the recording.

_"Prime 302 to Prime-CoordinatorOfTactics-5. Aural band transmission of requested data is ready. Utilization of aural bands to avoid monitoring from Saren-Prophet as requested."_

Valern winced, and Sparatus sighed. Tevos merely looked at Shepard. "These are geth units? I did not think they spoke to each other." Her voice had an edge to it. Valern shrugged, his narrow face expressionless and his voice calm. "They're using speech to avoid being monitored electronically. Clever."

Tali played more of the audio.

_"Acknowledgment of primary mission complete. Consensus has been achieved. Saren-Prophet is not direct representative of Nazara-Giver-of-Future. The Old Machines have not chosen their avatar-prime connection. Discrediting Saren-Prophet and Benezia-Secondary would allow geth to achieve Avatar-prime connection status."_

_The first voice was silent for a moment. "Understood. Compromising vocal recordings enclosed. If Saren-Prophet violates restrictions, transmission to Nazara-Giver-of-Future can be conducted."_

_"Transmit vocal recordings."_

Sparatus glanced at Tevos. "What is 'Nazara' and .. did that thing say Benezia?"

Tevos glared at the ground, hands clenched in her lap. "Geth are inherently untrustworthy. While the evidence is interesting it proves nothing. Someone could rig up a generator to produce the proper voices and record that , and it would pass if unedited at that point. The fact that the geth said their names doesn't prove anything. The idea that Matriarch Benezia is involved with geth is ridiculous. " Tali shrugged apologetically. "There is .. more , ma'am." She tapped play again. The voice that rang out confidently made all three Councilor's stiffen.

_"Still...Eden Prime was a major victory, the beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit."_

"_And one step closer to the return of the Reapers. And with no one the wiser, if Cerberus does it's job correctly."_

_"I'm more worried about the Geth., Benezia. As long as Cerberus's ruse works, well and good. But using the geth for this assault was a bad idea, just as I told Sovereign. I wouldn't have had to kill Nihlus if I could have used some finesse. It's as if he's trying to make sure I don't go my own way."_

_"And the geth watch us constantly. We must be careful, Saren."_

Udina gave a grim, almost gloating little smile, and leveled his finger at the aliens before him. "You wanted proof? There it is."

Tevos' posture had gone from angry to almost wilted, her eyes flickering around the room in a mix of pain and clear upset, her head cradled in shaking hands. Valern only sighed deeply and cradled his horns, mouth a grim , tiny line.

Sparatus, on the other hand , stood, his claws out, slashing them into the heavy chair that he had stood up from and reducing it to pile of cloth and bent metal with a backhand. His mandibles quivered in uncontrolled spasms, and his eyes had dilated."That slotted-plate kirix! The barefaced shxthia lied to me in my -" Shepard's translator gave out completely, as Sparatus exploded into almost 10 seconds of the foulest turian curses known. "...that .. that.. vorcha-fucking TRAITOR!" Garrus sighed in the background, a quiet sound of satisfaction. Sparatus glared in all directions, stance predatory and wild, before Tevos gently got up and placed a placating hand on his arm. "Tarren..." Sparatus shook off her arm. "I'm fine. We need to adjourn so I can get a hold of the Primarch. The gullet-fucking bastard is not –" Valern shook his head. "Sparatus... we need to discuss our options."

The turian councilor whipped around on a heel, his spurs flexing."Options? The only options is just how many times we have him shot before hanging the corpse by it's spurs from the top of this Tower! We find him and blast him into space dust! He has betrayed Palaven! The Hierarchy! The Council! He is working with **CERBERUS**! This is even _worse_ than him being in league with mere geth!"

Tevos exhaled, her voice quiet and level, obviously trying to get the agitated turian to calm down. "We cannot send a random fleet out with orders to "shoot Saren." The chaos would be immense. IF this gets out, there will be rioting on Thessia. Benezia T'soni is a priestess of Athame, one of the Thirty, and owns something like half a percent of the asari economy. There will be angry followers of her Unity movement who will claim the Matriarchy is fighting her vision of including other races on the Council." Tevos sighed , and buried her face in her hands. "Why Benezia would be involved in this is … beyond me."

Valern was staring at something on his omni-tool. "And from what we have heard, they are working to return the Reapers, which were the beings who destroyed the Protheans?"

Shepard watched the three Councilors frantically assess the damage, turning to give a grim little smile to Udina, before facing them again. "Councilors. I think I can speak for Udina and the Systems Alliance military when I say we would be happy to help out in any way possible in locating and apprehending Saren. He struck us, we should strike back." Sparatus glared at Shepard a long moment, then his anger collapsed. "No. Impossible. Despite the fact that I long to see him hauled back in chains – or preferably _pieces_ – we cannot send fleets into the Traverse on a wild spirit hunt. Not only do we have no idea where he has gone, but the Traverse would think we were invading. The warlords who hold sway there would never believe us." Udina stepped forward. "That is not what we are suggesting, councilors. The Systems Alliance has been wounded terribly. Not just by this attack, but by the very public hearing yesterday in which our government was very nearly directly accused of trying to frame Saren." Tevos looked up. "We had no firm evidence to suggest -"

Udina scowled. "That will inspire confidence and understanding in _no one_. An apology won't fix the fact that this body preferred to believe two of our most decorated heroes were trying to frame Saren than face the truth. And now, despite the fact that this renegade lunatic plans is working with terrorists and geth, the Council still hesitates. I am _sick _of this Council and it's anti-human **bullshit**!" Udina scowled, ticking points off on his fingers, eyes hard. "The Council cannot send fleets to protect our colonies, or find this villain. They cannot even promise us they will _investigate_ what we did find, or what their own internal investigation found. They dismiss our findings , believe we are lying about what we find, and then when presented with solid evidence – evidence they didn't even try to find , evidence sitting on their own _station_ – still cannot act. We have been accused of being too hasty, of pushing too hard, of colonizing too fast, of not bothering to heed your advice. And when we do so, when we try to do it your way, and when we try to meet the Council halfway, we are given nothing. Nothing for our dead. Nothing for our burning colony. Nothing for us proving to you that your own agent is a traitor! We have to present _something_ to answer to this or the Senate will simply assume that you are more willing to sacrifice humanity to prevent wider chaos."

The three Councilors looked taken aback at the force of Udina's words, and after a moment Sparatus sighed. "And what do you suggest, Ambassador. We cannot risk galactic war over a single human colony, or even a few dozen human colonies. And I would say the same if they were turian colonies, or volus colonies."

Shepard made a gesture with her hands, one of openness. "The last person I brought in is here to address just that." She nodded at Tetrimus who stepped forward boldly. Sparatus's eyes nearly fell out of his head when the older turian pulled back his hood. "Tetrimus? But you were … you were reported as dead. The entire cabal was." Tetrimus shook his head. "No, Tarren, I wasn't. The Primarchs left us on Shanxi to die, because we failed. I now work for the Shadow Broker, who has a message he wishes conveyed." Sparatus frowned. "We do not deal with criminals. Even if .. .if what you said about the Patriarchy is true, we cannot compromise this body in that manner."

Valern, on the other hand, nodded. "Working with the Broker would expand our operative ability to glean important actions and trends. STG has done a great deal of business with the Broker, after all. And we do not have to announce to the galaxy that we are dealing with the Broker. More curious to know what his interest is in all this, and if we will approve of whatever he has to say. " Tetrimus smiled coldly and began pacing. "I think you will approve, Councilors. After all, you are in something of a political corner with no way out." Tetrimus folded his arms. "The Broker is very concerned about the actions Saren has taken, and in light of this evidence, his alliance with Cerberus. We have been involved in a shadow war with that group for over 10 months now, and we fear that we are being distracted from whatever it is that Saren is planning."

His voice descended in pitch, the swish of his robes as he turned to pace the other direction almost hypnotic. "Worse, we fear that if the evidence Miss Zorah has is true – and I assure you, we were very careful to test it's authenticity before offering to bring her to the Citadel – then we face a nightmare. The geth are troublesome enough – our estimates place their fleet at almost 25% larger than the combined Citadel fleet. Combined with unknown technology the likes of which destroyed the Protheans...it all adds up to be bad for business." Tevos gave the turian an appraising look. "And what exactly does the Broker fear?" Tetrimus spread his taloned hands. "We have evidence that Saren has operatives who have built up an entire economic support system, one we believe is tied to or aided by Cerberus. Why they are colluding is at this point unknown, but we know the financial transactions that were so difficult for Detectives Vakarian and Forlan to decipher were conducted through Saren, using Cerberus funds. We found evidence that Cerberus purchased and refitted three batarian cruisers – like those the Normandy sighted approaching the system as the geth dreadnaught left it. And we have partial comms intercepts suggesting that Saren and Cerberus planned to destroy all evidence of geth and frame the batarians for the attack."

Sparatus exhaled. "Thus explaining the comms jamming, and the insanity of a salted bomb. By the time any evidence was found, it would be months, maybe years later. " Tetrimus nodded. "The Broker cannot obviously give away masses of valuable intelligence, not just for the fact that we are not a charity, but it would reveal sources and methods. But he can inform you that the patterns suggest whatever Saren is planning, it has been in the works for more than a year or two. Maybe as long as a decade. We can no longer be sure our own operatives have not been counter-infiltrated." The turian paused, and turned back to face the council. "And even having the evidence he is guilty is not of much positive use. Aside from the politics, we have no clue if Saren has deep operatives in the turian fleet, or C-Sec, or even the STG. You can't even mobilize to neutralize him. Any large-scale operation could be infiltrated, and might even be co-opted. The only possible way to resolve the situation without starting a galactic panic is to send a Spectre after Saren. The Broker offers intelligence support to such an effort, free of charge, as well as the services of our most deadly and tenacious operative, Urdnot Wrex."

Sparatus frowned. "I though the Broker was driven by profit."

Tetrimus shrugged. "There are times when survival is more important than money. As I said, the little we know leads the Broker to believe we could be facing war with a numerically superior , technologically advanced foe who has already proven to be no friend to the Broker. The idea that the Broker is willing to do this free of charge should let you know how seriously he takes this. The fact that I am one of the few people who speak with his voice directly and am willing to expose myself to arrest or interrogation should also let you know that we are … concerned." Tevos shook her head. "Unfortunately, we cannot put Spectres on this case right now. All of them are already tasked to beyond capacity. And far too many of them were trained by Saren, utilizing his contacts, his methods. Quite frankly, if Saren and Benezia are co-opted, we cannot be sure of the loyalties of the rest of our forces. A private internal investigation was leaked to Saren hours after it started, after all. Furthermore, few of our Spectres are equipped with the specialized support needed for such an audacious undertaking."

Tetrimus glanced at Shepard. "Then your course of action should be self evident. There is exactly one person who you can fully trust no to be working for Saren or compromised by him that has the skill set and power to take him out. That would be Commander Shepard."

Sparatus shook his head. "Out of the question! We freely admit we were mistaken about Saren's involvement. But Shepard, while clearly competent, has not undergone Spectre training. Nihlus did not even have any time to evaluate her performance. And we do not currently have the equipment, support crew, or a vessel capable of fielding another Spectre at this time. On top of that -" Tevos glanced at Sparatus and interrupted. "There may be a compromise. Ambassador, would the Systems Alliance provide the support Shepard needed in this endeavor? In return for helping the Council manage the revelation of Saren's involvement and mitigating their stance on withdrawal from Citadel space?" Udina nodded. "I believe so. Shepard already has a dedicated team aboard the Normandy, including combat engineers and biotics. The Normandy is a stealth frigate, capable of operating quietly and unobtrusively, even in the Terminus. It's not a Council vessel, so you would have...plausible deniability if something went wrong. The Alliance can foot the entire cost of the operation, including supplies, weapons, and training. We can contract our own specialists for any needs that may arise. We..." Udina pauses. "I think we would even be willing to accept this as a candidacy under trial. If Shepard is successful, the Council would finalize her status. If this goes downhill, it can be written off."

Tetrimus spoke up. "The Broker would agree to this as well. Shepard's .. efficiency is very impressive. We would request that we be allowed to send Wrex along as well, both to provide a link to Broker intelligence that could be of use in tracing Saren, and as additional combat support." Valern frowned. "Possible. But we would need oversight or an observer of our own."

In the back of the room, Garrus stepped forward, movements urgent. "Councilors, send me. This is still a criminal investigation that will require researching leads and tracking down evidence and witnesses. Executor Pallin has suspended me due to my part in aiding Commander Shepard, so I don't have anything else to do. And a turian needs to be there when we find him to bring him in." He balls a fist, still remaining at attention. "I have been trained in investigations of all kind, and even some financial analysis through working with my partner Forlan. And my military record speaks for itself." Sparatus looked hard at the younger turian for a long moment. "Agreed. As both a representative of the Council and C-Sec. Maybe if we had given you more time this would have resolved itself more amiably." Tevos glanced at Shepard a long moment. "We would also need a geth expert. The University of Serrice has at least two researchers I know who specialize in that, with commando backgrounds."

Udina nodded, but Shepard shook her head. "Unnecessary. At this point, any geth expert could also be part of this … mess. Besides, we already have one who we definitely know isn't working for Saren." Sparatus frowned, mandibles loose. "Who?" Shepard turned to point at Tali. "Her. She's the one who found the message. She's clearly already familiar with the geth, since her people created them. And she's proven she can recover further data from any geth we may come across." Tali gave a little start, and then nodded. "I … I would like to go. The Broker has given me... a chance to go back home, to the fleet, with my Pilgrimage completed...but I can't turn my back on this. The geth are our responsibility. And...they tried to kill me. They killed .. my friend." She straightened. "And I can fight." Tevos gave a small smile."You are .. very young to be involved in such a dangerous enterprise. Your father probably would not approve." Tali folded her arms and leaned back. "I can't go home to my father and tell him I walked away from a chance to convince the Council that the quarian people regret what they did and are trying to make it right. We don't have an embassy. You won't even let our ships dock. We wander in remote systems trying to eke out an existence. If I can help stop the geth, if I can prevent them from attacking and killing others like they did to us... and chose not to, my father would never look at me again."

Sparatus , of all people, gave an approving nod. "Well said."

Udina exhaled , glancing at Shepard with a curiously amused glint before turning to face the Council. "I would like to know how you plan to announce this."

Sparatus sighed. "The only way possible, human. Publicly."

* * *

The Council chambers were literally packed with onlookers. Every tier of observers was filled with speculating, murmuring faces.

Two Council Spectres, resplendent in black and silver armor with black half-cloaks stood to either side of the petitioner's pier, one asari, one salarian. Both hold black half-cloaks thrown over an arm, and silver badges in their hands.

Tevos spoke. "Commander Sara Shepard, Systems Alliance, please step forward."

Shepard had hastily returned to the Normandy after the meeting, and was now in her full dress blues. Rich blue leather wrapped around her back, encased her arms in vambraces, her shins. The soft cloth was a lighter blue, shoulders bearing a commander's twin gold stripes. Her Star of Terra was on a scarlet ribbon around her neck, her decorations trailing down her left chest like a parade of colors and metals. Her sword was sheathed at her right side, her shoes hand-polished and gleaming like black glass as she came to attention, standing between the Spectres.

Sparatus spoke. "Commander Shepard, thanks to your efforts, and those of the Systems Alliance, you have uncovered evidence that concludes Saren Arterius was indeed involved with the attacks on Eden Prime." The crowd murmured a moment, until his cold gaze swept the serried ranks of onlookers, silencing them. "This Council owes you a personal apology, and the Systems Alliance a considered one."

Tevos spoke, her voice ringing with conviction. "Betrayal is the most dire of crimes, regardless of language, species or purpose. Never let it be said that when one of the races of the Citadel Alliance was threatened , that we stood unprepared to render aid, to defend and assist, and to repay treachery with justice. Saren Arterius is accused of grand treason, murder, sabotage, embezzling, misuse of Spectre authority, espionage, and collusion with geth. We also charge Matriarch Benezia T'soni of these crimes, as well as conspiracy and theft. "

Valern's usually reedy voice was calm, analytical, but thoughtful."There can be no question of guilt. We have heard the suspects admit to guilt with their own voices, and seen detailed new evidence of financial and material misconduct. Those who gave false witness will be charged with perjury and incarcerated until they reveal the truth. We also have evidence that proofs brought before this Council of human misconduct were lies built of whole cloth, both fundamentally untrue and provably constructed."

Sparatus spoke again. "As such, we hereby strip Saren of his office and the powers, authority and responsibility of a Council Agent of the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. " As he spoke, the salarian Spectre ripped the black cloak in his hands in half, and crumpled the delicate badge of office. "He is outcast and exiled from every planet, station, fueling stop and parsec of Council space. Any and all who aid and abet his activities are charged with his crimes. He must surrender himself immediately, or death will find him and all with him."

Tevos spoke. "Who will deliver this death?"

There was a long moment of absolute, clear silence. Not a voice whispered. Not a foot moved. The entire chamber seemed to hold it's breath. Across a thousand worlds, billions of sentients watched the three Councilors gazed around the chamber with displeased looks. "Will no one take up this torn mantle?Will no one avenge the lives lost, the honor stained?"

Shepard took precisely one step forward, as she had been coached. "Madam, to be a member of this community is not a reward , but a burden. Not a privilege, but a duty. Not a task, but a vow. Humanity stands ready."

Sparatus nodded, and the three Councilors reached down to touch the haptic interfaces before them. A triple soft chime sounded through the air, untroubled but for the fall of cherry blossoms and that awful, radiating silence.

Tevos's voice was soft, but powerful, her eyes not breaking contact with Shepard's own. "It is the decision of this Council that you be granted the office, powers, and privileges of an officer of the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance of the Citadel."

Valern folded his arms, his STG bracers glowing faintly white in the dim light of the Council chamber, his face stern, dark eyes set and mouth in a firm line. "Spectres are not trained, but chosen." As he spoke, the asari Spectre draped the black half-cloak over Shepard's shoulders, obscuring her Alliance uniform. "Those who have proven themselves through fire and blood, through duty and death defied. Those whose actions and brilliance have elevated them far above the rank and file. Like this cloak, it is a burden one carries atop any duty to clan, race, or planet."

Tevos lifted her chin, voice earnest and heavy with emotion, her poise absolute. "Spectres are an ideal, an agent of our will, a symbol of courage, self-reliance, and integrity. They are our right hand, our sword, our guiding influence in peace, our determined anger in war." The asari Spectre next to Shepard pinned the silver , winged badge to Shepard's left shoulder, adjusting the pin slightly so it hung upright, gleaming. "Like this pin, Spectres must shine forth to bring the will and peace of the Council to all parts of our space."

Sparatus stood at near military attention, spine ramrod straight, mandibles set inline with his jaw, his flanged voice solemn and dark. "Spectres bear the heaviest burden of any soldiers. They are the protectors and arbiters of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. " The words hung in the air as the asari closed the cloak with the badge, so that the winged device hung over the human's heart, the cloak hanging to just above her waist, the symbol repeated in silvery-gray thread on the back. "The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold, unfettered by law, custom, or government, and let none deny that authority."

Tevos nodded, as the haptic interface in the badge came online, the badge now glowing faintly white. "You are the first human Spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you, and for your species."

Shepard bowed her head respectfully. "I am honored, Councilors." Valern nodded. "You have already received your first assignment. Enter the Traverse. Find the traitor Saren, and any accomplices, and either bring him to justice or bring him death. He is a fugitive and you are ordered to use **any** means , regardless of severity, to accomplish this goal." Shepard nodded again, and the three Councilors inclined their own heads in turn.. "This meeting of the Council is adjourned."

Shepard turned on her heel, along with the other two Spectres, and marched off back down and off of the pier. As she entered the first floor landing, she was greeted with the sight of dozens, maybe hundreds of human spectators...applauding.

For _her_.

Part of her mind knew it wasn't actually for her. It was for what humanity had achieved, for the Council accepting humans, for the truth about Saren. But part of her went back to the angry, grieving widows that hurled insults, the broken gazes of those she had sacrificed. The ugly, disappointed glares of Delacor, Kyle, Adams...and it all seemed to wash away in the gentle susurration of applause. Standing in the middle of the path, with a gentle smile that seemed a mile wide, was Captain David Anderson, shoulders straight, eyes bright with pride and tears. "You did good, child. Now, let's catch that bastard."

Udina nodded. "Congratulations, Commander. 'Not cut out for wheeling and dealing' you said?" The ambassador looked around the chamber, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "I'd hate to see your idea of being good at such things. In any event, we must move. We'll need to organize the Normandy, see to crew, supplies, information...make sure these aliens you've decided to bring along are accommodated...orders cut, Alliance command will have to be notified..." Udina sighs. "Anderson, I'll need your help with this, or some admiral with more rank than brains will barge in my office and deck me for what I've agreed to." The two Spectres who had performed the ceremony lingered nearby, and the asari spoke up. "If your people will be occupied, you should report to the Spectre office. We need to issue you special gear, and you now have access to supplies, weapons, and programs of a restricted nature, as well as training and special intelligence briefs from the STG." They walked off, silent and dark in their uniforms.

Udina nodded briskly, rubbing his hands together. "Good. Anderson, let's be off, there's little time to waste." The two strode off, the crowd beginning to dissipate as C-Sec began restoring order in the chambers. Wrex and Garrus came up, followed by Ashley, Alenko, and Tali, the big krogan and tall C-sec officer parting the crowd as they stepped forward. Wrex gave a wry look at Shepard. "Aliens need a ceremony and a cloak to say 'go kill this guy'. Typically soft."

Tali tilted her head in a perplexed manner. "You'd think Udina would have been a little more grateful, given all you just got accomplished..."

Shepard shrugged. "What did you expect from a politician? Everyone head back to the Normandy, we have to discuss a few things before I go off to learn about being James Bond."


	30. Chapter 24 : Osaba

**A/N:** _Before the fun with image macros and the joy of someone explaining lolcats to Wrex, I thought I'd put up yet another interview. This is to give an insight into what the public is told and knows about the events that transpire. _

_If you just read last chapter, the Council seems to go from "We can't admit we are wrong publicly, riots would result" in private to "Meh, Saren flocked up, arrest him" in public. This is not, I assure you, a plot hole. The reason is that the Council, to play ball with Systems Alliance to bring in Shepard , got it's own way in how the news went public._

_It always bothered me that no one ever believed in the Reapers, given the evidence I had to hand. But it makes much more sense that any hint of them would be repressed from the get-go. So in return for skirting chaos and rebellion from turians and asari and the uproar that prosecuting Saren would produce, the Council got to spin it's own version of what happened : Saren went crazy, Benezia plots on taking over the world to play Mighty Whitey with the lesser species, and the geth are under Saren's control due to unspecified technology. _

_The average citizen of the galaxy is never told of Reapers, or how heavily infiltrated the militaries and intelligence services of all major races might be. They aren't told of Cerberus involvement (since that would embarrass the humans). They are instead told Saren is crazy and Shepard is going to put a bullet in his head. That makes a lot more sense than admitting Reapers exist (which would scare the shiat out of everyone) and then backsliding on it to the point that a few months later you somehow forget they are real and claim to have "dismissed" that claim, regardless of the proof._

_In my AU, the powers that be realize the Reaper threat is real. But to mask preparations, they need cleanly defined enemies. The Geth serve as a perfect boogeyman. Any other information is treated as hearsay and bad extranet rumors. _

* * *

January 25th, 2183 – 6:00 PM

_DOWNLOADING: Data feed, prime broadcast segment 19, terminal date 2183.25.1_

_Manifest dump 99541-core alpha, unclassified_

_This is an official Systems Alliance data capture dump , replication or rebroadcast is restricted._

_Transcript begins, identifiers J: al-Jilani I: Irrissa Te'Shora D: **Dominic Osoba** _

_Keywords: Saren, Eden Prime, Butcher_

BEGIN:

"Westerlund news! All the news , fit or unfit to print, 24/7!"

J: "Good afternoon. I'm **Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani**, Westerlund News Network. Today we have another prime exclusive – the burning story on the wire tonight. Saren stripped of his Spectre rank, and humanity's first Spectre, Commander Shepard, authorized to go after him.

J: Joining us , as usual, is Matriarch Irrissa, the Council media representative and assistant to Councilor Tevos of the Asari Matriarchy. Also joining us is Attache Dominic Osoba, of the Office of the Systems Alliance Embassy, assistant to Ambassador Udina. Thank you both for joining us tonight.

I: As always, Ms. al-Jilani. The Council values being able to present the events of today in a calm, rational light, so that people can understand why such drastic actions were taken.

J: And what light can you shed on this? Yesterday, the Council had public hearings in which evidence against Saren was seemingly dismissed with prejudice, and he was acquitted of all charges. Less than 24 hours later, he's been stripped of his rank and accused of treason, along with Matriarch Benezia T'Soni."

I: I'm afraid I cannot speak to all particulars of the case. C-Sec, the STG, and Systems Alliance forces are all still in the process of investigation. However, there is new evidence that proves that Saren apparently has discovered technology that allows him to control geth platforms, and that he plans to overthrow the Council and use his geth armies to rule in it's place.

J: That seems … extreme, does it not?

I: It does, and we feel that perhaps some of the blame is ours. Saren was always a passionate, high-strung defender of justice, but he tended to work alone. Turians do not function well in sole operations, they are by evolution and culture a very collective, social species. The pressure of having so many high-impact investigations, along with the possibility that he may have been suffering from long term separative stress disorder, means that he may have become unstable.

J: I see. Certainly the turian people don't appear to be taking the news calmly. There are major riots in parts of Palaven City, as well as entire cadres of 'justice brigades' and 'hastatim for the lost'. Death squads, really. Can you comment on this, as well?

I: I am by no means an expert on turian culture, Ms. al-Jilani. However, Saren was a very popular cultural hero for the turians, appearing in their media, art, music and government representations. There are probably thousands of turian children named after him, six cities, hundreds of streets, even a heavy cruiser. Turians value loyalty and duty to the Hierarchy and to their superiors. For him to turn traitor is bad enough, to challenge the established leadership of Council space is .. culturally unacceptable for many. It appears some younger turians are embracing his cause, the so called "hastatim for the lost". They feel turian military might should some how translate into the right to dictate to other cultures as if they were client species.

J: That is a rather disturbing stance to take. There are actually turians supporting Saren?

I: Yes. As I understand it – and keep in mind, this is a movement only a few hours old – these people feel that Saren was embarrassing humanity with his investigations of human AI research corporations on Noveria, to the point that the Systems Alliance threatened to withdraw. They claim the attacks on Eden Prime were the result of botched human experiments on controlling the Geth, and that the Council "sold Saren out" to prevent humans from withdrawing from the Council Charter. This is obviously the worst sort of incoherent conspiracy theory, and quite frankly, it's possible this whole movement is being organized by agents of Saren. They are the minority and the Hierarchy takes a very dim view of their activities. Most will be arrested or killed in short order. After the Unification War, the Hierarchy takes civil unrest extremely seriously.

J: I would expect so. What about the purported involvement of Matriarch Benezia? I understand there are also riots and demonstrations on Thessia …

I: There are. The Council was loathe to publicly announce her involvement in this sordid affair for just this reason, but we feel it is .. relevant. Benezia was highly outspoken in her Unity Through Trinity campaign. Her beliefs that asari, due to their longer lives and more … shall we say, long-term perspective, were best suited to guide what she termed "younger, lesser" races, were not popular with many older asari.

J: That sounds very patronizing.

I: It is not intended to be, although I must admit I don't subscribe to her views. You have to understand that for asari, our interactions with other species tend to carry an undercurrent of tension. We are natural biotics, with the capability to link minds and share emotions , memories and thoughts. We outlive all other races besides krogan by centuries, and we have the strongest economy, dominance in financial and economic sectors, and advanced technology far beyond other races. There is always suspicion, which leads to resistance to asari ideals and concepts. Benezia felt – however wrongly – that it was only natural for younger species to need guidance from older species.

J: I fear that to most that still sounds patronizing. Humanity , at least, is a big believer in personal and species self-determination. And many humans are not so much anti-alien, as the charge is often thrown, but resistant to the idea that human culture would be the loser in being assimilated into an alien culture.

I: Understandable. And I fear that Benezia's ideas, combined with Saren's deteriorating mental state and control of the geth, pose a large problem for all of Council space. We now have evidence that he accessed the Beacon on Eden Prime and sabotaged it, and had made plans to frame the batarians for the cruel acts. C-Sec Financial Crimes has uncovered that he has defrauded the Council and related entities out of millions, perhaps tens of millions of credits, and unknown amounts of weapons and military grade supplies.

J: Does the Council have no oversight over these agents? Having now had one of our own named a Spectre, do we need to worry about Commander Shepard?

D: Ma'am, speaking on behalf of Ambassador Udina, that's the last thing we need to worry about. Saren was able to get away with this because for 30 years, the man was by all accounts a hero, risking his life multiple times for the best of causes. And Saren appears to have been aided in this by a long line of other traitors, malcontents, and mercenaries. Commander Shepard is well known for her incorruptibility and obedience to orders, but we will be running this operation as a joint Systems Alliance / Council initiative. We have no plans to allow any human Spectres, now or in the future, to disgrace us as Saren has done to the turians.

I: Furthermore, from all evidence we are seeing, this move of Saren's has been in the works for a very long time. It is not as if one day he started embezzling. He was cautious...and the Council freely admits it was not watching closely. For that we can only offer apologies, and the knowledge that all other Spectres are currently being vetted for any suspicious activity.

J: That's definitely comforting news. Attache Osoba, rumors have been flying around that the Systems Alliance was displeased enough with the events of yesterday to withdraw from the Citadel Charter. Is there any truth to this rumor?

D: Absolutely not. We informed the Council yesterday we needed additional time to wrap our investigation up, and when we presented them with our additional findings, they immediately acted not only to address the threat, but ensure humanity had a stake in vengeance for Eden Prime.

J: Yet there are calls from many Senators , demanding Council warships be dispatched to protect human interests. The Council has only decided to send out one Spectre. Don't you feel that the Council's reaction to the near destruction of one of our colonies is a touch restrained?

D: Khalisah, this is why I wish some elements of our government would clear public statements through my boss sometimes. Let's leave aside for the moment that humanity getting a Spectre is a clear nod to our progress and potential to one day hold an actual seat on the Council. Deploying a ship or two above each colony is only going to get some aliens killed along with humans. Our investigation shows that over 20 geth ships and what appears to be a geth dreadnaught attacked Eden Prime, with well over 1500 geth troops. Humanity currently has 46 colonies in the Traverse, and 11 in the Attican Expanse. There aren't even remotely enough ships in the Citadel Fleet to defend each colony with enough strength to ensure there is no invasion and leave enough left over to defend the rest of Council space.

I: {looking disgruntled} Additionally, we neither know where Saren is or where he plans to strike. He may be waiting for just such a weakening of the Citadel fleet to attack the Citadel or key member worlds directly. The Council would be blamed just as much if, in defending human colonies, Saren decides to strike volus, hanar, elcor, or other colonies on the edge of Citadel space. And frankly, given how widely dispersed humanity is, we don't have the fueling resources or crews to cover such a vast area.

J: So how does the Council plan to ensure humanity is safe from further attack?

D: There is a two-pronged approach. The Systems Alliance will be deploying additional units to the frontier. The 4th and 5th Marine Battalions are being converted into frontier battalions, which will be placed on at-risk worlds to stiffen defense and protect civilians. Furthermore, we will be contracting with private security forces to stiffen resistance on extremely vulnerable worlds without good defenses. For those planets without GARDIAN defense towers, we will deploy warships, mostly units from the 44th and 63rd Scout Flotilla. Finally, we plan to offer up contracts for an additional 500,000 security mechs, to stiffen colony defense forces.

J: And the second prong? Aside from the increased military stance?

D: We are working closely with the Council fleet to tie our communications networks together, and we are deploying an additional 1.6 million hardened FTL dedicated comm buoys over the next few weeks to prevent comms blackouts like the one that affected Eden Prime. These buoys will transmit an activity signal and system scan results constantly. Upon going dark, Council fleets will respond in force from the nearest Mass Relay to investigate. This is much more practical than scattering ships across the Traverse, and allows the Council fleets to continue to protect Council space while being ready to aid humanity.

J: That is very welcome news to those of our viewers watching from the colonies, I'm sure. But I'm afraid there are other questions not so easily dismissed. The Council seems very blasé to the risks humanity faces in settling the Traverse. They wish it to be settled and calm, but offer no long-term support. Do you feel the Council actions in response to this atrocity go far enough?

D: I know what you're getting at, ma'am. A lot of people are going to blame the Council , and perhaps the Systems Alliance, for not acting sooner. And as I always say, hindsight is 20/20. It's very easy for people who have lost loved ones, businesses, or friends to this tragic event to demand action and for someone to be held accountable. But reality always has to trump both sentiment and vengeance. Everything Spectres do is sealed, and the Council typically grants them great freedom in how they operate. Most build their own support networks of specialists, acquire multiple ships, even build bases to operate from.

I: {nods} To imply that the Council should have greater oversight of Spectres flies in the face of over 1,400 years of successful Spectre operations. In that span, only two other Spectres have gone bad, both of them over personal issues that did not involve any criminal element other than murdering someone who killed someone they loved. I understand the frustration of your species, Ms. al-Jiliani...but sometimes we must trust those we have decided are defenders of the galaxy.

J: Cold comfort for those who had relatives die and now hear of corruption maybe going back years. Why is there so much secrecy around Spectre operations and the Spectres themselves? That seems counter-intuitive to transparency and species responsibility, which is what the Council always seems to preach.

I: Originally it was to prevent incorporated methods of intelligence from being revealed. The earliest Spectres were converted STG members and asari huntresses. Over time, as the power of Spectre's increased, it was to protect the Spectre against blackmail, second guessing, or people protesting necessary but harsh calls made by the agent. Consider how your species has reacted to Commander Shepard's military background. To turians and asari, her ability to make the hard calls despite the cost is an admirable trait, but many of your people call her a murderer and her epithet of "Butcher of Torfan" seems insulting to us.

J: Many humans see her as extreme, when there are other ways to achieve the same goals – {is interrupted}

I: And that is the difference in how different cultures view success, however. Many times, there simply **aren't** other ways to achieve the same goals, but people – especially humans- desperately want to believe that. Your fiction and entertainment venues are full of what you call anti-heroes, those who get deeds done by "breaking the rules" or going against popular opinion, but consistently, you only celebrate those who achieve greatness without paying the personal cost. Such a cultural trait is acceptable, when applied to your own ranks. But the Spectres are expected to defend the Citadel species as a whole at all costs. If that means a human colony dies so that 3 turian colonies live, so be it. If that means sacrificing asari ships and troops to prevent pirates from overwhelming a volus colony, so be it. We expect them to make the right choice from a set of often deeply unethical and troubling options.

D: We have such a concept in our culture, at least some of our cultures, called the Mandate of Heaven. To do what is right, not what is in one's own best interest. Unfortunately, it often feels as if that is turned against us, that alien races do what's in their own best interest, but we are expected only to do the right thing.

J: A telling statement, Matriarch.

I: Perhaps. But managing economies and governments across a span of 80,000 light years is not something that can be easily handled. The agents of such governments are not under tight restraints because they have to act, sometimes quickly, and with complete trust. {Gives a wry smile} As unhappy as some will always be with any government, I think our track record of success to failures speaks for itself. We remain deeply sorry that Eden Prime was so badly wounded by Saren, and we make no excuses for not preventing this from happening. But we also must be truthful and say that without the lack of oversight that made this possible, the Spectre program would have little value at all. And that, all things considered, the Council has the utmost faith in Commander Shepard to redeem the Spectre Corps by bringing Saren and his accomplices to justice.

J: We'll have to see if humanity is so accepting of Shepard in such an exalted role.


	31. Chapter 25 : Citadel, Depature I

**A/N:** _Note the time stamp – doing weird things with time again. I know there seems to be a lot of what is commonly termed "fluff" – non storyline centric, non action pieces – in this story. Part of that is due to exploring the characters. We get such short thumbnail sketches of each person, but rarely in ME1 do we get to see how characters interact without Shepard. Given that standing next to a barely sane ball of murder and snark inhibits peoples conversation, additional scenes about the other people on board seem appropriate._

_Besides, when the hell else am I gonna get to make a Shepard Punch joke?_

_Going forward, I'll be putting up notes on a forum. The link is in my profile. _

* * *

January 25th, 2183 – 4:00 PM

The extranet was on **fire**.

Joker was comfortably ensconced in the cockpit of the Normandy, ostensibly to run a series of pre-flight systems checks. Right after the Council had publicly stripped Saren of his status and appointed Shepard to catch him, Anderson had taken off with Udina and had been ensconced now for hours in the Alliance Complex in Presidium.

As a result, Shepard had sent Alenko and Williams back to the Normandy with orders to get everything ship-shape for departure. She'd also communicated with Joker via commlink, and had issued a series of orders that was apparently the level 5 checklist for battle departure , from memory.

"_Joker, I want pre-launch tests done on all primary and secondary propulsion and flight control surfaces. That includes mechanical examination as well as electronic confirmation. Make sure we are topped up on fuel, and get a full charge on the fuel cells and emergency power systems as well. Have someone physically check all outer hatches, the emergency response beacons, and all Ship-Safe components."_

_She had paused, and then her voice sounded again, with what Joker imagined was a slight touch of amusement. "And order some real goddamned coffee, I wouldn't use that mess we have to torture batarians with."_

_Joker had laughed. "Damn, Commander, you even joke about torturing batarians?"_

_She had replied in a cool but still clearly amused voice. "No, Flight Lieutenant. I'm very professional when it comes to torturing batarians, and that coffee isn't up to snuff for that purpose, much less drinking. Throw the shit out the airlock."_

As a result, Joker was now an hour into second-stage flight control surfaces testing. The "wings" of the Normandy were mobile surfaces. The four Riggs/Royce Combine engines mounted on mass barrier secured pods could be reconfigured in angle and position. Battle position pulled the engines in close and tight, connecting them to quick-disconnect ports on the fuel lines for extra thrust. Scout position moved the more powerful upper pair back, while the lower pair angled for better maneuverability and turning radius. And in heat-dispersion mode, they pushed each module far apart and slid back the armored casings to vent waste heat. The process of moving the engine units, along with armored fuel hoses, was fraught with danger. A ruptured line could result in a fire or explosion, while failing hydraulics might result in an engine not locking in place, making the craft unstable.

Still the checks were routine and automated, and Joker passed the time looking through the extranet. Normally, he'd be checking Sursuration, seeing what juicy bits of gossip could go out in 150 bytes of text or less. Or watch silly videos on YouVid, an ancient human video streaming service. Instead, though, he had watched news stories on Commander Shepard becoming a Spectre.

And now, he laughed as human businesses were already marketing the event, and the human media spun it into every which direction. There were already t-shirts, haptic air-car stickers, and even a story about a possible documentary. Vloggers from all over human space had commented on their view of Shepard. Many from Earth, particularly the New York Arcology, were cheering her on, proud that one of their own was now the premier representative of Earth. The colony Horizon was hosting a 24-hour party to celebrate the "baddest bitch in space", hosted by rave-spinner and media maven Original Sins.

Others reacted with outrage, including the anti-war group Blue Stars No More, and as always, the ever negative mouthpiece that was Diana Allers and Battlespace, who interviewed a pack of bitter old vets who felt Shepard was a cruel butcher. And of course, the cranks came out of the woodwork as well – PETA using the event to bitch about the use of "actual leather" in Alliance uniforms, and Terra Firma claiming that the way Shepard had been treated yesterday was proof positive that the humanity first attitude it's membership had was well justified.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg, really. Already the various haptic image macros and demotivators had started, many of them using the recently leaked clips of battle-cam footage recorded by Chief Williams. Some enterprising soul had figured out that most of the 212 on Eden Prime was dead, and in the chaos that had reined immediately after the attacks, no one was really paying attention to a bunch of servers that would never be used again. Someone had hacked the automated video server that recorded all of the infantry unit's battle suit and hard suit telemetry, coming up with pictures and video logged from the cams of Williams and Cole.

Joker grinned as he watched a video of Master Sergeant Cole standing atop a pile of geth bodies, talking shit and strangling a geth with one hand, shooting them in half with another, smoking a cigar. The video was sound-tracked with the new synth-trip song "Didn't know who he fucked with".

Pictures and video that were _awesome_.

By far the most popular so far was a video clip that started with a frozen still image of Shepard, hanging in midair, face in a rictus grin of rage, eyes like blazing supernovae, fist pulled back and alight with biotic energy. A geth prime looked up, firing it's huge weapon desperately. The image was still for about 3 seconds, then animated, showing nothing but a slow motion close up of an armored fist smashing through the geth's head. A fade to black, and then bold letters flying onto the haptic image. "SHEPARD. PUNCH." The haptic image ended in a OMGMemeNET extranet link to some ancient video game called F-Zero.

51 million hits in a little over 6 hours.

Grainy video of Shepard flying through the air , her form limned in blue radiance, slamming into a pile of geth. Some clever image editing had given the geth silly faces, and inserted comments like "oh shiat", "i can see my server from here", and "ow , my eye". The image moved slowly through the entire biotic explosion that followed, ending with Shepard screaming "STRIKE, BITCHES!" Small print at the bottom scrolled across. "Bowling average: 254. NorthAm Bowling Commission rules this a spare, sorry, Shepard."

Many of the images were older, from other battle fields. A pieced together vid of Shepard leaping from atop a crane to dive downwards, elbow pointing down, right arm locked in an angle, to smash into the back of an elcor mercenary and snap it's spine. "Backpain? Try a Shepard Piledriver Massage." Some of the images were sickening or disturbing , such as aftermath footage of a line of batarian corpses, each with a grisly bullet wound in the forehead, captioned with "Is this the kind of person we want representing humanity? Damn straight. Remember Mindoir."

Endless static image macros, from the ancient, such as AdviceShepard – "Get shot out of sky. Kill 50 batarians with your knife. Get told you're a Butcher." – to the modern, such as Council Hates You, complete with air-quoting turian councilor. "Stop geth attack single handedly. Get told by turian councilor they've dismissed you as a frame job". A picture of her in boot-camp training, wearing a t-shirt and the extremely skimpy shorts recruits are issued, displaying long, cocoa-toned legs, glaring at whoever took the picture. "Everyone wants to bang her. Everyone too scared to try." A somewhat long-range picture of her talking to an attractive , smiling woman while a guy standing next to her looks nervous. "Your girlfriend cheats on you with Shepard. YOU apologize."

Joker cackled at that one. _She could break any one of my bones .. damn...would probably be totally worth it._

Even the mainstream media got into it a little bit, HumorNet posting a skit of popular actress Ylena Samuels Jackson as a crazed Shepard's demands someone bring her gun to her. When a second figure asked how to identify it in an armory full of weapons, Ylina had folded her arms and cocked out her hip in the iconic "pissed off Shepard" stance Joker had seen and said "the one that says crazy motherfucker".

VTV was hosting a Shepard-lookalike contest. A Shepard-lookalike _wet t-shirt _contest. Joker tagged that one in his bookmarks for later review.

Some of the commentary and video was mean-spirited and cruel, poking fun at Shepard's early life. Some of it was witty and reflective, commenting on the irony of a former criminal rising from a sordid past to win the highest honors awarded by the Systems Alliance and now becoming a Spectre. Some of it was touching – a series of images of peaceful fields, people building homes, children playing over the wreckage of an Alliance dropship, and a shot of hundreds of people each holding a candle , sent by "the 1,139 people saved by Commander Shepard on Dirth, who owe every new day to her". Some of it was inspiring, the owner of the New York Mets announcing a ten-million credit scholarship to get young, disadvantaged kids out of the ghetto and into the military that he dedicated to the "spirit and courage of Commander Shepard, one of New York's own."

It was crazy. Mania, actually. After seeing the horrific images from the attack on Eden Prime, after being so cruelly disappointed yesterday, with the concept of never achieving vengeance for Eden Prime, of the Council dismissing humanity, their rapid about face had driven people to pin the rapid turnaround solely on Shepard.

And that drew commentary from all parts of Earth, and some of those messages were just... well, weird. Joker was reviewing that part now, bits of commentary from the Chinese Federation that didn't seem to quite translate cleanly.

It was a still image of a tiny, cute kitten, super imposed over a near-dead batarian, as if sitting on it's chest, but it's eyes had been edited out and replaced with Shepard's. The kitten's front left paw was draped over a huge handgun bigger than it was, the barrel smoking as if just fired. The batarian had a look of horror on it's blood-spattered face. The caption read "ShepardCat is watching, but can't remember if she's fired five shots or six. Do you feel lucky, punk? Well , do ya?"

Just as he was about to punch up an extranet search – maybe it referred to an old song or something – he heard extremely heavy footsteps in the airlock, and then a thud as something big entered.

Joker turned around in his seat, almost absently, still half puzzling over the macro, and looked up to see a giant krogan standing there, a shotgun longer than either of Joker's legs held casually in one hand like a cane. "Um, hah, uh... can I .. help you?"

The krogan gave Joker a steady, baleful gaze. His armor was blood red, pitted and seemingly recently patched. _And bloodstained, wonderful. _The krogan's face looked like he had lost a fight with a really hacked-off lion, long scars trailing from the big red plate above his face down his cheeks and mouth to his throat.

"Shepard sent me." The bulbous red eyes focused on him, then dismissed him. "I'm looking for .. a funny man. Wait, that's not the right translation."Joker just blanked for a moment. "Uh, what? Ah. I mean... I don't think we have a crazy alien assembly spot. How did you get in anyway?"

The krogan tilted his head. "Never figured she'd have a drooling halfwit for a pilot. I'm looking for a... Joker. That's it. You're funny, but in a stupid, kicked in the head by a varren kind of way. You simple or something? She gave me an access code. There a problem with that?"

"Yes. I mean no. Shit. Look. Shepard said something about aliens showing up, but I was expecting you to be... escorted. You just can't go running around the ship! It's a military vessel."

The krogan stepped forward, leaning down. "And who is going to stop me? You?" He gave a heavy growl, displaying a massive array of teeth as he gave the most terrifying grin Joker had ever seen, worse than the holodisplay of a T-rex he had seen and been scared of on Tiptree.

"Calm down, Joker. The Council is sending him along with us." From behind the Krogan , Alenko walked up, smiling faintly. "And Wrex, please try not scare … or eat ... the pilot. He may not look like much, but he's the only one we have."

The krogan, for his part, was now staring at Joker's unattended screen. "What the … " Alenko glanced over and immediately tried and failed to smother a laugh. "Oh, God, Joker. I thought you were running diagnostics."

Joker spluttered. "I WAS. But they're so boring. And how likely is it the that one of the engines would really just fly off spontaneously. I mean, the ship wasn't built with scab labor...was it? Never mind. I was just passing the time."

The krogan's face had taken on a truly confused cast. "What is that?"

Alenko coughed, grinning. "It's … an old form of human .. uh, humor, I guess. It's called an image macro. Back when humanity was just beginning to use computers, this sort of thing was popular. It's a reference to an old movie from about 200 years ago. They...don't make a lot of sense unless you get the inside joke."

Wrex shook his massive head. "How is that funny? Funny is when she killed that batarian terrorist on Shuler by hacking his explosives cache and blowing him up with his own C-11. That was funny. This is just ..."

Alenko shrugged. "Humans take some getting used to, Wrex." The krogan shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know, it's still weird fighting along human females. At least yours fight without so much... talking. And thinking. And then asking questions..." Wrex's tone was aggrieved and confused.

Joker and Alenko glanced at each other a long moment before bursting into laughter.

* * *

Garrus sat in his mostly empty office in C-Sec, almost all of his belongings now neatly packed away in the 5 crates that lined the back wall. He had already spent a couple of hours packing a few belongings from his apartment, and that was already paid up through next year. Hopefully, he wouldn't be gone THAT long.

Across the office, Forlan sat at his own desk, toying with his M-41 Talon pistol. A human creation, the Talon was the first generation of a "close-in" sidearm, utilizing a shotguns choke and pelleted ammo, but with oversized mass effect fields to control the recoil, resulting in a hand-held weapon that fired with the kick of an ODIN assault shotgun. The weapon overheated with only a few shots, and went through ammo blocks in a manner of days rather than months, but it would put a hole through almost any shielding or armor at close range. Forlan gently ran a rag over it's slide, before reassembling the cleaned weapon. "Where will you be going? Do you even know?"

Garrus shook his head, signing some forms to release all of his C-sec gear back into the armory. He was wearing his own personal armor – passed down from his father – the heavy black angled suit feeling almost too loose on his large frame, the blue trim the same color as his face paint. "Not .. really. It's all happened so fast I'm not even sure I can properly catalog everything." He stood, checking everything one last time. He'd turned in his pistols and shotgun, his armor, and of course his badge, keeping only his precious Model 19 anti-material rifle, a gift from his old commanding officer in the military. "From what little Shepard told me, they already have some dextro food and sleeping areas ready, they had prepped that for Nihlus, the poor bastard. I have no clue how a human crew will react to a turian, especially after what Saren has done, but .. " He gave a shrug. "Not much choice now. I'll be damned if I sit on my ass while Pallin figures out which talon to stick up his chute next."

Forlan only nodded. "I wish Pallin had not suspended you. It's not right."

Garrus sighed. "Forlan... I turned in my resignation after Shepard asked me to come with her. I can't...do this anymore." He looked at his partner and gave a weak smile. "I never realized before just how much pressure and stress I had put on myself. Trying to be like my father. Trying to be like Pallin. Trying to be a good turian, someone respectable. All the time that barefaced bastard is out there plotting to kill people, to betray us all. And when the time comes to bring him to justice...we were this close to letting him get away with it!" The turian's fist slammed into the mostly empty top of his desk. "Infuriating. Unacceptable. At least the Council has enough sense to authorize whatever methods are needed to bring him in." He looked away, at the frosted glass at the front of the office, at his name in reverse printed neatly there. "I can't keep telling myself I should be here... when all I do here is run down the symptoms of the sickness in galactic society... and sometimes, not even being able to bring them down because of some stupid regs."

Forlan got up, stretching, and shook his head, his narrow features constricted and almost pained looking. "I will admit, chasing thugs and drug runners is more rewarding than figuring out which batch of air-car racers is sabotaging the speed detection devices on the ward walls. And I can understand your frustration with regulations. At the same time, Garrus...you are too quick to anger. You react , sometimes without thinking of costs or consequences. I know Pallin seems like a bitter old cloaca lost in a world of doing things by the book to you." The salarian sighed. "But sometimes, you have to do it the right way."

Garrus shook his head. "And look people in the eye who have been tortured and turned into living test tubes, tell them that they don't matter? Rules and regulations didn't save Eden Prime. They didn't stop the Blue Suns from killing that little boy last month, or the red sand deals Eclipse makes. They didn't stop the Council from deciding that when politics was more important, laws could go by the wayside. I'm not going to justify myself. I'm a bad turian, because I'm not a robot." He reached out with a single talon to trace the silver name plate on his desk. " I will miss it, and you. But I have to do what I think is right."

Forlen smiled then. "Never said you were wrong, just for you to think about it. I guess you're about ready to head out?"

Garrus nodded. "If you don't mind dropping me off, that is. Shepard gave me a passcode to get on the ship but said to make sure I was aboard by no later than 1900. I would like to be early so I can try to get a feel of the crew and get my possessions stowed."

Forlan put one thin hand on the big turian's arm. "Yeah. But before we go , two things. First...Officer Telanya asked if she could run you out to the ship. She wanted you to come visit her first." Garrus chuckled. "That girl doesn't give up, does she? Well, I definitely won't say no this time. Just more proof that I'm a bad turian, sleeping with asari all the time instead of some nice turian girl."

Forlan coughed. "The fixation on intercourse with other species continues to astound. Waste of time, waste of money, and waste of energy. And mood music concept remains confusing. But...that's not important. The other thing... "Forlan exhales, looking up. "I want you to take care of yourself out there. I won't be there to watch your back or keep the bad guys from getting in close. I can't go along, I have too many responsibilities to my family, and frankly, chasing after a Spectre on an experimental ship with krogan, humans and quarians sounds like bad vid theatre."

Garrus laughed. "I will be careful, old friend."

Forlan nodded. "Good. Take this, then. I can't be there ...but I can still make sure you have a good close in weapon." He handed over the heavy pistol he'd polished, still in it's black leather holster.

Garrus's mandibles flex in surprise. "Spirits, Forlan, I can't take this. You spent half a years salary on this!"

Forlan's voice drops in pitch a bit. "You can take it, and you _will_. I never really mentioned this before, but .. I had a friend on Eden Prime. A human I worked with in the STG before I turned to C-Sec. Good guy, friendly even to aliens, a member of their Special Forces units. He's dead, and I believe his offspring must be as well." Forlan sighs. "I am not a sentimental man. Salarians... process our emotional states rapidly. But a part of me is deeply … unhappy .. that good people died while the Council...and C-Sec...did nothing. You took action. You made this happen."

Forlan pressed the pistol into Garrus's oversize hands, holster and all. "Take it and put a hole in the monster who would kill innocents in his lust for power."

Garrus hesitated, then nodded. "I .. I will." He shifted back onto his spurs a bit, and then straightened as his comm-tool chimed. Glancing at it, his face took on a wry cast. "Officer Telanya just messaged me, asking if it would be inappropriate to have a drink before I dash off to save the galaxy."

Forlan snorted. "Go, get out of here. Not interested in any more bragging or bad puns about popping heat sinks." Garrus laughed and picked up his small bag, slipping the pistol into it before turning and nodding to his partner. "Stay safe , Forlan." With his usual swaggering walk, Garrus left the office, the room brightening momentarily until the frosted-glass door shut behind him, casting everything into dimness once more.

Forlan stared at the floor, and nodded to himself. "Yeah. You too, kid."

* * *

Tali stood motionless at the hatch of the _Sullen Cloud, _staring at the now blackened streaks and smears of blood that marred it's side. Activating her omni-tool, she exhaled to calm herself, and began recording.

"Lieutenant Dost, this is Tali'Zorah. When you get this, the Shadow Broker should have delivered Troyce's frigate back to Caleston, registered to your name. He offered it to me, but.. I have something else I have to do. To avenge Troyce … and finish my Pilgrimage on my own, not have it given to me. "

She paused, looking around the empty docking pier, seeing the broken railing where she almost died, the pitting in the decking from shotgun blasts, seeing Troyce's last strong, elegant movements before his end in her mind's eye. "C-captain Troyce died … saving me. He stood alone against two krogan killers, b-because I froze and then p-panicked and ran. I'm .. .I'm sorry. He was … one of the nicest, most open people I have met, and in the few hours we had to talk , I called him my friend, too."

She sniffled, and shook her head, air from her suit system already trying to dry her face of the tears that streamed down her cheeks. "I wish I had some … words.. to make all this... easier. To make it not hurt so much, inside, where it won't stop. I wish I was like these aliens I'm about to set off with, able to just forget and move on. But I can't."

"Please tell Kiana'Shaal that she was right about me. I am just a child, too full of the stories of the Migrant Fleet to know what the real universe is like. I was angry at her then, demanding to be treated with respect, claiming like a fool that I was ready. I was not. And Troyce paid for my unreadiness."

She clenched her fist, and her eyes burned but no longer watered. "I won't make that mistake again. Keelah se'lai." She turned the recording off, and beamed it to the ship , before walking away, forcing herself to walk calmly and with her head up, spine straight.

At the end of the pier, Tetrimus stood like an obsidian statue, unmoving in his dark black robes, only the glow of his cybernetic eye setting off his form, outlining the tattered plates of his face. "I will ensure the ship reaches Caleston myself, Miss Zorah. As I said, Troyce would want someone to get use out of it... and we owe the man a debt. Dead or not, the Broker always pays his debts." The black-cloaked figure paused. "Turians have excellent hearing, and I could not help but hear your message. I am not a soft or comforting figure, by any means, and neither is the work I do. But you are very wrong if you think yourself a failure for not being able to somehow save Captain Troyce."

She looked up, frame shaking. "If I hadn't run-"

His voice was like ice mixed with the scrape of steel. "Then you would be dead. Raik Bole had killed several skilled members of the Shadow Broker's personal extraction team, and I believe he was wanted for the murder of a Spectre candidate a few years ago. And Weryloc Shan was so feared that even Wrex did not want to believe he had killed him with such ease. Shan was best known for surviving a crash landing from orbit after being shot out of the sky by Blue Suns, killing them all and stealing their ship. Fighting either one of them was simply beyond any skills you might have. For Troyce to have killed one at all is quite frankly astounding, given his age and the fact that he had early stage Keprals Syndrome."

Tali sighed, but nodded. Tetrimus was too cold and too .. bitter to ever shade the truth in consideration of her feelings. "I... t-thank you for telling me that."

The turian said nothing for a long moment. "I only worked alongside a quarian once, an arrogant , prideful young fool on his Pilgrimage who got caught up in events far over his head. Like you, he was convinced at first that he could handle anything, then blamed himself when the violence of a galaxy he had never really been exposed to was too much. Like you, he had a ridiculous notion that he had some grandiose duty to society rather than making a fortune from fools and the weak and moving on."

The turian glanced at Tali before turning away, cloak fluttering in the wake of his stride. "And like his daughter, Rael'Zorah needed to be told the truth before he could find his own strength. I wish you good business, young one. I believe your kind say keelah se'lai when you depart."

Another step, and he vanished into electricity and air, before she could even process her response. _My father was on the Citadel during his Pilgrimage, and worked with Tetrimus?_

She was still a long moment, and then a small smile came to her. She at last something to talk to her father about in her next email home. Exhaling, and taking the old turian's words to heart, she lifted her head and began walking towards the secure docking bays where the Normandy was docked.

* * *

_Well, that's that._

The Normandy , of course, had it's been assigned it's own armory officer, someone named Jenkins, but that worthy figure had perished the recovery of the last of the 212. Williams sighed as she finished the inventory of the weapons and transmitted the results to the quartermaster, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction at having duty, and being a part of such an important mission, even if it was only for a few days until the Normandy would dock with an Alliance base and get replacement personnel. She wasn't happy about that eventuality, knowing the Alliance would bury her in some other backwater, simply because she was a Williams.

_Dad... I'm gonna fix this, someday. Clear our name. Make you proud. _

She picked up her Avenger , racking the slide, and making sure it was clear before slamming the bolt home an putting it in her weapons locker.

Turning away from the lockers, she gave the cargo bay a once over, checking for unstowed crates or lose items that would possibly move in transit. Finding none, she opened the armor lockers and considered the hard-suits therein.

Her own lightweight Marine armor was so much scrap after Eden Prime, the quartermaster had already reduced what was left to omni-gel and pulled a fresh suit of Onyx armor, standard gear for space-side Marine security details. The black armor was heavier and more angular than her old Phoenix gear. Her suit was pristine. The armor of Lieutenant Alenko was still a bit banged up, but a few minutes with omni-gel and a shaping tool would fix that up.

Commander Shepard's armor, on the other hand, was wrecked. The chest plate was bowed inwards and studded with shards of red-tinted metal, the legacy of the close-range explosive death of the Geth Prime on Eden Prime. The right arm was mostly gone, stripped to tattered bits of the armor under-layer. The legs were breached in multiple places, the left arm warped and brittle.

She went to work on it, laying each piece out on the work table and pulling spares from the heavy lockers set on either side of the hanger bay doors. Turning on the radio in her omni-tool, she listened to old rock and roll as she worked. Fixing the chest plate would be tedious, but there was no real spare for the entire assembly, so each fragment of metal had to be pulled out with pliers, sealed with omnigel, and the whole thing lathed back into shape.

She heard the elevator door open behind her, and heavy steps stomping into the bay. "This is the hangar bay, Wrex. Typically not a lot of through traffic. It would be a perfect place to set up the other Link, and .. well, it's large enough and out of the way enough that spending time here during transit might be best."

She half turned, glancing over her shoulder, as Alenko and the big alien mercenary stood at the edge of the bay, looking around. "Huh. At least it's decent sized. Yeah, this will work. I'll need a mainline ODR connection to set up the Link." Wrex's voice reverberated slightly in the hold, it's already gruff tones taking on a more menacing, growling texture as a result. Alenko moved next to the weapons lockers and slide aside an access panel, indicating several fist-sized connection points. "Here, and here. These good?"

Wrex examined them closely, then slid a slender black box from the bag he carried in one meaty paw. He withdrew a heavy cable, which he connected with great care, and then attached to what look like a flip-top haptic interface system, which, after a moment of fiddling, he connected to the wall magnetically. The haptics lit up a vivid blue color, swirling into a stylized image of an open-lidded eye.

Wrex grunted. "Alright, I'm in. Just like with the other Link, human, this one is secure. Anyone touches it without the proper gene sequence, it won't work. If they try fiddling with it, it'll wipe itself. And I don't know how to fix it."

Alenko nodded. "I.. I don't think any of our people would mess with it, Wrex."

Wrex nodded. "Good. Humans don't taste much better than turians, I'd hate to have to eat one of you. So many small bones, they get stuck in my teeth." Williams just stared at the alien, mouth hanging open slightly, and Wrex nudged Alenko. "The female looks as if she's either -"

"Wouldn't finish that sentence, Wrex. Remember the chat about our women?" Alenko's voice was wry. "Chief, how is the armory coming along?"

She shook her head and saluted. "Sir. I've gotten all the weapons put away, except for .. any ordinance our guests may be bringing on board." She gave a very hard look at the gigantic shotgun still clipped to Wrex's back. "When not underway, we usually stow weapons in these lockers...Wrex." She gestured to the row of ordinance lockers.

Wrex just shrugged. "Whatever." He walked over to the lockers, peering at them before locating the only one marked with Tuchankan script. He immediately tensed, his posture dropping slightly, his voice angry. "Who labeled these? This says King of the Urdnot. Is someone mocking me?"

Alenko shook his head in confusion. "N-no! We just put your name into the translator and printed out what popped up! I mean, sometimes it works phonetically,and "Rex" in one of our core languages means king, but..."

Wrex stared at the script a long , long moment, his eyes no longer angry but full of .. something that looked very much to Williams like pain. Frowning, she turned back to work the armor again, as Wrex finally opened the locker and shoved in his gun. "Anything else, Alenko? I'm getting hungry here."

Alenko shook his head. "The only areas I haven't shown you are the various staterooms where officers sleep, and Engineering, which I doubt you care about. Shepard wants everyone in the comm room at 1900 to meet with the Captain about our next move. The mess decks has , um, krogan cuisine loaded."

Wrex nodded. "Whatever." With a disinterested air, the big krogan walked back to the elevator, while Alenko stepped next to Williams. "Fixing up the XO's suit, Williams? Why not just replace it?"

Williams gave a jerky shrug. "Who knows? XO's orders. LT, are we really just gonna let aliens walk all over the ship? I mean, it's cutting edge Alliance technology?"

Alenko gave a sigh. "I already had this talk, or something like it, with Captain Anderson briefly via commlink. The bottom line is the ship is a joint human-turian design. Because of how it was built, the specs are not exactly secret. And after all the damned publicity at Eden Prime, everyone knows about the Normandy's capabilities. As far as the aliens, well..."

Alenko rubbed the back of his neck, eyes looking somewhat tired. "We chit chatted about this on the mess decks last night, Chief. The way I see it, aliens are just people. Weird looking people sometimes, with scales. But they're still just jerks and saints. They still feel pain, and fear, and love. They still get angry and happy."

Williams angrily jerked a particularly large fragment of geth metal out of the commander's pauldron and shrugged, tossing the chunk of metal into a waste bucket next to the work table. It landed on a small pile of other fragments with a musical, muted clink. "I get that , sir. Like I said, I'm not into all the Earth First bullshit. But we still have to be … prepared... if things get stupid like they were before we found the evidence to prove Saren was guilty. They were writing us off!"

She paused, then looked at Alenko. "We can't always trust today's allies to be tomorrow's allies. I worry that having aliens all over the ship , with exposure to our technologies -"

Alenko shook his head. "Chief, please. If not for aliens, we'd never have any evidence to prove Saren was dirty. Without an alien helping us, we'd never have found the evidence in time. Without an alien, the Council would have laughed us out of the room again. I get what you mean. You think it's not smart to rely on aliens, because when push comes to shove, everyone looks out for themselves."

Alenko turned away, staring at the deck, as if considering something. "But...at the end of the day, Chief, the aliens on this ship are here to stop Saren. Like I said, we can't go it alone, or we end up like the batarians. This is too important, too big, to think we can handle it all ourselves."

Williams sighed, wrenching another fragment of metal from the armor plating in front of her. "And like I said last night, I just shoot things and look good, LT. I'm not saying I am gonna complain to the CO or anything. I just..." She shrugged. "Shit, I don't know. I guess this is just moving all too fast for me, and I haven't had time to adjust. Not like it matters, I won't be here long. Just point me at the bad guys. I just wish I was as good at it as you are, with your biotics. I could really get into crushing a damned geth with my mind."

Alenko smiled, that amused but gentle sort of smile that lit his whole face up. _Damn, why does have to be so cute? I mean, dimples, really? _"It's okay, Chief. I admire the fact you say it straight and I don't have to worry about where you stand. Too often, people are .. hesitant to even talk to a biotic like a normal person. Some people don't even see our value in the Marines. And most certainly don't confide in us. I appreciate that you've never acted that way."

Williams just shook her head, turning from the armor to face him fully, crossing her arms under her breasts. "Sorry, sir... but treating you _badly_ because you are a better soldier due to your skills is about the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I don't understand why anyone would ever do that. Unlike most of the officers I've fought with, you always check your people, listen carefully, and kick ass in every fight you're in. I saw the helmet cam tapes from Chora's Den. Not only did you keep the civvies safe, you kept up in the kill count with a giant alien killing machine and Commander Shepard. Sounds pretty valuable to me."

Alenko's smile widened, and he sort of ducked his head, as if embarrassed. "I … won't take up any more of your time, Chief. I really should make sure the turian is settled in, and Miss Zorah will be here soon." _Shit, LT, you taking up my time is something I'll never complain about._

He walked away, but paused. "Oh yeah, one more thing." He looked back over his shoulder , and grinned. "Commander Shepard had you and Cole transferred official to the Normandy. The security contingent didn't have any senior sergeants, so you're the new squad leader of second squad. If we have to wide deploy, 1st squad with Cole will deploy with Shepard, and you and 2nd squad will deploy with me. Welcome aboard, Chief."

_Holy shit, she got us transferred! I'm finally out of stupid garrison duty!_ She thought she was just going to be on the ship a few days, but .. "T-thank you , sir. I look forward to serving under you."

Alenko nodded, turning away, and she ended up watching him every step of the way to the elevator, his confident , easy walk making his muscles ripple under his BDU's. _Just looking won't hurt, surely. Damn. _As he got in, he looked up, an almost teasing expression on his face, his smile now a smirk."Try not to stare, Chief." he said.

She blinked as the door slid shut. _He did not just... _She flushed, then, turning back to her work, shaking her head. _Stupid, stupid Williams. Having a crush on your superior officer, regardless of how nice his ass is, is just asking for problems. _

She sighed, then returned to fixing Shepard's armor, thoughts of all-too-attractive lieutenants occupying her mind.


	32. Chapter 26 : Citadel, Depature II

**A/N:** _The sequence of events after leaving the Citadel will start out familiar to most, at least. Obviously they have to pick up Little Miss Prothean Expert .. the idea that anyone could survive more than a few days without water in the heat put out by a semi-active volcano is stupid._

_However, there's still a few bits and pieces before they actually get there. Like Garrus snarking. And speeches. And a calibration reference. _

* * *

January 25th, 2183 – 6:00 PM

Shepard had spent the entire afternoon in the Spectre office, and for the first time in a very long time, actually felt like the new kid. Being surrounded by people who , as a living, were expected to do the impossible, and were given everything needed to do the impossible, was actually humbling. She had met 3 other Spectres, all of them rather understated in their ego, but all clearly very, very dangerous. They had welcomed her, showed her a few things, and let her get to know other Spectres that had come through the offices.

The so-called offices were tucked almost as an afterthought in the Presidium Ring between the Human and Turian embassy offices. From the outside, the space didn't seem like anything special – a security door, the Spectre emblem printed in frosted white paint across two armor-plas windows that revealed only blank walls behind them. Looked plain. Boring, even.

Inside was apparently the alien idea of the motherfucking _Batcave_.

The purported "office" was the size of a small base, wrapping around the edges of the ring for hundreds of feet. The interior was done in a dark, blue steel, with heavy rubber matting covering the floors. Printed pictures of various older Spectres, each a foot high, lined the tops of the long corridors connecting the various elements of the lair. There were armories full of illegal and experimental weapons, giant battle-suits that stood 12 feet tall, personal flitters, a private medical recovery ward, libraries with every form of research, a plastic surgeon, rooms of data banks and monitoring equipment. Meandering through all of it must have been a thousand vidscreens and audio-banks of news feeds, from asari mainstream nightly news to hanar religious exhortations to what sounded like vorcha talk radio.

All in all, it was amazing, and scary. It was the tree-house hideaway of a pack of government-backed vigilantes, each and everyone a certifiable badass in something, from financial investigation to FTL plotter sabotage to one extremely scary asari who was apparently a master of creating solid darts of gaseous poison and biotic force to silently assassinate anyone who was considered troublesome.

_I should probably tell Udina to be more polite. _

Hours later, Shepard was finally headed back to her ship, the back of the air-car loaded with things she wasn't even sure she fully understood. The most important thing they had educated her on was what Spectres could and couldn't do, and that they were expected to pay their own way because all Spectres usually got both a vast salary from the Council and support from their home governments.

There had been discussions of a medical system called UNITI, universal intratrasmitted something or the other, a method to use primitive nanotechnology to upgrade medigel efficiency to patch up critically wounded squad mates. There was a crash course on GhostNet, a system of intelligence files and request system to allow Spectres the latest information and to obtain special equipment and reinforcements. There were even books – Citadel Laws, electronic guides on exactly what few limits Spectres had, seemingly endless demonstrations of just how much influence was at her fingertips. 3 brand new Revenant LMG's were on their way to her ship, free of charge, the manufacturer having offered to disable the fabrication rights management module to allow her to upgrade them to her hearts content.

_Well, now I know how James Bond felt. One half kid in a candy store, one half pisisng-my-pants overwhelmed. _

With a head full of jumbled knowledge, still wearing her Spectre cape, Shepard piloted the aircar down to the pad next to the Normandy. A line of mechs and crew members was already loading the last supplies onto the ship, while she saw Engineer Adams on port wing with mag-boots, performing a few last-minute checks of the hull. Strangely enough, Udina was there too, having an animated, somewhat strained looking conversation with Captain Anderson near the far end of the pier. She killed the aircar's engine, pushing the doors up and out of her way, and waved over a crewman. "Get everything in the back loaded into storage, except the black boxes, pile those in my stateroom." Barely bothering to acknowledge his salute and response, she walked over to where Udina and Anderson were conversion, both men turning to her as she got close.

"Good, you're here." Udina still wore the elegant brown jacket he had on yesterday, but now it was crumpled, and he looked tired and drawn. "I've managed to square things away with the Admiralty. Barely. They aren't happy that you are serving the Council and have been stolen away from the System Alliance command structure." Shepard smiled. "Then I have good news. Talking to the Spectres, they informed me that every Spectre usually remains associated to their military. The duty I have is higher than that of my duty as a commander, but doesn't nullify it. I still take my orders from Arcturus, sir, as long they don't conflict with the orders the Council gives."

The muscles in Udina's face relaxed some. "That .. that is very good news, Commander. With someone else, I'd be worried they would abuse their immunity to ignore orders they don't like. But your dedication to duty is well known." He exhaled. "As far as the rest goes, well..." Anderson spoke up. His face was somber, almost resigned. "Shepard, Alliance brass decided that the best way to handle the situation is .. for you to take command of the Normandy. They can't have her captained by someone else taking orders from a lesser officer who is at the behest of .. aliens. So, you are now the CO. Nav Pressley will be your XO. It's quick, quiet, you know the crew, and , well..."

Shepard's jaw dropped, and her eyes narrowed. "This is bullshit, sir! The only reason I even requested a space-side posting is to be able to work with _you_! You and Saren have a history, and they Council used it against you,and you don't even get to command the ship they gave you to kill the fucker?" She felt sick at her stomach, shaking her head. "No." Anderson put his hand on her shoulder, carefully looking into her eyes. "Sara. You've stood around under my shadow long enough. You don't need me looking over your shoulder to tell you when you did good and when you messed up. You know. You busted your ass to get command status when you were still ground-pounding hoping against hope you'd get to fight along side me. And you did, kid."

Anderson looked down. "But now this has to be your fight. I didn't bring all this to a head. I didn't get it done. I didn't convince the Council to do the right thing, you did. You know the crew, you said it yourself, they're the best of the best. It isn't like I've had command of the ship for years and you're stealing it from me, it was a shakedown run. You need the Normandy's abilities to operate deep in the Traverse. And you need to be able to say no one is calling the shots but you. You've always had to deal with someone questioning your orders, someone not giving you the support you need. We can't afford that now."

Udina frowned. "If it's any consolation, Shepard, I am not pleased with this outcome either. Captain Anderson and I may have had a few testy words before seeing the Council. . . but he has been both a staunch defender of humanity and a hero for years." Udina folded his arms. "That being said, I have need of him here, to be honest. I will have to deal with Alliance Command a great deal, and I am not military. Already I am all too often ignored when I try to advise the Senate Military Commission, because I don't get it , according to them. Anderson will be able to influence policy here and abroad."

Anderson gave the human ambassador a smile. "Thanks, Ambassador. It's good to know I won't be piloting a desk uselessly." He turned back to Shepard. "You can do this, kiddo."

Shepard looked down, refusing to meet his stare, but the captain just squeezed her shoulder again. "You are still the best soldier I ever trained. I told you before, I don't trust any other human with the kind of power a Spectre has. But I trust you. I trust you to get it done, no matter what, and to make me proud. You're..the closest thing to a daughter I've got. You know that. And you know that I'll always have your back. So just .. keep your chin up. Okay?"

Shepard nodded, looking almost... forlorn for a moment before the mask came down again. "I will, sir."

Udina had turned to watch the crew loading supplies onto the Normandy, giving them a little privacy, and now, cleared his throat, as if he wasn't comfortable watching the two of them interact in such a personal manner. "The Council has only given us two possible leads. The first is rather direct, the second is most likely pointless tail chasing. First, we have zero possible locations for Saren or Benezia, but Benezia has a daughter, one Liara T'soni. She's at a remote Prothean dig site on Therum. She specializes in researching the Prothean extinction. Her theories have been dismissed, because she maintains that the Protheans were obliterated deliberately by a more powerful culture and that whatever killed them probably killed species before the Protheans, in some kind of cycle."

Shepards eyes narrowed. "The Reapers."

Udina nodded. "Yes. Tevos is still questioning if they actually exist or not, but everyone on the Council agrees we cannot afford to take the chance they don't. This Liara woman is our best lead – directly connected to Benezia and researching what we are fighting. Go and determine if she's connected to this mess or not, and report back to the Council."

Sheppard nodded. "Immediately, sir. The second lead you spoke of?"

Udina sighed. "Over the past 2 years, 5 Prothean research sites have been attacked and looted, and over 15 volus merchant ships supplying Prothean research sites have been boarded and attacked. We don't know 100% for certain why, but the Broker – through Wrex - informed us that Saren was behind these raids. The ships have nothing but fuel and food, really, supplies for the camps, but if Saren is attacking them, we need to figure out why. We received a fragmentary distress call from a volus cargo-liner about 10 hours ago. Too late to help, but not to investigate the wreckage and see what you can find."

Shepard glanced around the pier, and turned back to Anderson. "Alright, then. I... I'll be back, sir."

Anderson smiled. "I know you will, Commander. She's all yours now."

* * *

At 1850, Shepard ordered the airlock sealed and primary start up on the mass effect drive core. She walked through the ship, seeing all stationed manned, every face looking alert and ready, and entered the cockpit. Joker was sitting there, reading a long screen of text topped with the Systems Alliance logo, a look of shock on his face. He turned in his chair to look at her, frowning. "Orders .. just came through Commander. Guess Captain Anderson could withstand anything except backroom military politics." She nodded, jaw still tight. "It pisses me off. He should be here. He .. makes us all better. I feel like I'm stealing the damned ship from him."

Joker turned his chair all the way around to face her, frowning. She noticed absently that he had not shaved in several days. "Ma'am, with all due respect, that's bullshit. Everyone on this ship saw you throw your ass on the line on Eden Prime, they saw you fighting to get things done on the Citadel. Most of all, we all know how much you respect Captain Anderson. We're not blind, ma'am. We're all behind you 100% of the way." She looked at him a long moment and then just nodded, her face a mix of emotions that swiftly blanked themselves. "Joker , pull up the 1MC."

Joker nodded, turning back to his console, tapping a few haptic buttons, and the soft chime of the ships all-points intercom system sounded. Shepard stepped forward, exhaling and spoke. "All hands, stand to. By authority and direct order of the Systems Alliance Naval Admiralty, as of 1800 hours this 25th day of 2183, I have been given command of the SSV Normandy, and I have the deck and the conn. Navigator Pressley is now the executive officer. VI, log the time."

She paused, and heard murmurs in the distance from the ops alley. She squared her shoulders and continued. "By now you have all undoubtedly seen the news vids. I have been awarded Spectre status by the Council, and given direct orders by that body and the Admiralty to find and apprehend Saren and any confederates, to bring them to justice for what they did at Eden Prime. The Admiralty has assigned Captain Anderson to the office of the Ambassador here on the Citadel, to act as our liaison back to the Council and coordinate efforts between the Council military and our own."

"He spoke to me before the turnover of command, and said that this was the finest crew he had ever served with in all his days. Without each and every one of this crew's quick actions and excellence, we might be dead in the space over Eden Prime, and Saren might have never been made to face his crimes."

She paused, searching for words. Joker looked at her , as if waiting, his eyes focused on her, and she gave an almost nervous smile as she continued. "I am not one for speeches. Anyone who knows me, who knows my history, understands that at best I'm a gun that gets pointed at the bad guys. But I'm not in this alone, and this is no battlefield. We each are the best at what we do, from the engineering staff who has more qualifications than a dreadnaughts engineering team, to our ops group that kept us undetected even from an alien dreadnaught using technology that wiped out the Protheans. The security marine detachment went into overwhelming odds, against a foe that had chewed up 3 brave Marine groups, and only suffered one casualty."

Shepard's voice grew harder. "Now we are called upon to chase this pointy-faced fucking bastard into whatever hole he crawled out of, and get vengeance for Jenkins. To get vengeance for the ghosts of the 212, the 235, and the people of Eden Prime. To show the galaxy humanity is not going to let themselves be kicked around just because we're the new kids on the block."

"We aren't doing this alone. Just as I have all of you to back me up, we have members of other races who have been wounded by Saren and his monstrous acts. Garrus Vakarian helped us track down the information we needed to pin this mess on Saren, both financially and in locating Urdnot Wrex, who helped us take down a corrupt crime lord working for Saren. And Tali'Zorah nar Rayya is the person who got evidence directly implicating Saren, and that caused the Council to support us. They are in this just as much as we are."

"We have our orders. Find Saren before he finds the Conduit. I won't lie to you. This mission will not be easy. We've already lost one man. More of us may die. But this is the most important mission any of us have been on. To prove humanity's place among the stars. To prove the readiness of humanity to stand with other races as equals. To save the entire galaxy from a madman."

"You're my _crew_. I have faith in each and everyone of you. Let's get this done. Department heads, squad leaders, XO, and .. Council Observers, meet me in the Comm room in five. Shepard out."

Joker gave a wry smile. "For someone who says they're not good at giving speeches, you give good speeches. Anderson would be proud." Shepard shook her head, eyes dark and cool. "Fancy speeches won't stop Saren and whatever he's planning. Let's get this bird in the air, Flight Lieutenant. Set course for Therum, Artemis Tau cluster, Knossus system."

Joker's hands were already moving. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

The comm room had ample seating, as it was originally designed to double as a situation room or meeting room. XO Pressley , Engineer Adams, and Lieutenant Alenko sat on the left, along with Cole and Williams, the squad leaders of the ground marines.

To the right, looking various shades of uncomfortable or self-conscious, sat Wrex, Garrus, and Tali. Wrex in particular looked ridiculous, perched on the chair that was barely big enough to accommodate him, wearing a heavy jumpsuit in black with a thick white cowl over his hump, since his armor was still being repaired. Garrus wore his father's armor, freshly painted and glossed, his visor casting a very faint blue radiance over Tali's _reik_, who sat with her hands clasped together and very still.

Shepard stalked into the room, still wearing her dress blues and the Spectre cape. "Alright, people, listen up. Our first target is Therum, a world in the Traverse. Human colony, but small, mostly mining operations." There was a series of heavy thuds in the background as docking clamps released, and Joker's voice advising all hands to prepare for jump shock. "The target is an asari archeologist, one Liara T'soni. She's Benezia's daughter, but according to Tevos the two had some kind of falling out a while back. She's an expert on Protheans, and might be able to help us figure out what the Conduit is,or what the hell Saren is doing."

Shepard paused and folded her arms. "I want all duty stations prepped for silent running at a moment's notice, Pressley. You're going to have to double as Nav and XO so go ahead and pick one your people to start picking up more of your slack. I'm having my shit moved to Anderson's office, so you can move in tonight on the mid-watch." She turned to face Kaiden. "Alenko, make sure both marine teams are prepped for hot insertion once we get on the ground. This should be an easy operation, but I didn't get this far by assuming things, and after Eden Prime turned from a pickup to a warzone, I want to be ready for everything." She glanced over at Wrex, Tali, and Garrus. "Garrus, the abbreviated record you sent me of your military service says you were a gunnery officer, that right?"

Garrus nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Mostly light guns on frigates, but also some missile work and electronics. I also pulled several stints as armor mechanic, in the 3th Armored." Shepard nodded in return. "Good. You can work on the ships guns from the forward battery. When you aren't doing that, help maintain the M35 Mako armored vehicle." She glanced at Wrex. "You'll spend your time looking over what the Broker sends. I'll forward whatever intelligence I get from the Council and the Alliance on Saren as well. Other than that, you've been handling weapons and armor for centuries, please assist Gunnery Chief Williams with maintaining the armory. "

Williams frowned. "Ma'am -"

Shepard slowly turned her head to face the younger woman, eyes icy. "Yes?"

Williams faltered. "Ah, I mean... that would work."

Shepard just turned away to face Tali. "Miss Zorah, I'd like you to report to the engine room and assist the engineers there. I don't expect you to stand a watch, but right now we have two watch standers doing 12 hours on, 12 hours off , and that runs people ragged in a hurry. Assuming Adams has no objections, you can assist with engineering duties." Tali nodded enthusiastically. "I.. .I'd love to help. The ship is so... advanced." Across the room, Adams gave a nod of approval. Shepard looked pleased. "I'm glad you approve of human ingenuity, Miss Zorah."

Garrus chimed in. "And turian technology."

Shepard glanced at the turian detective, who was smirking. "So far the only turian tech I've seen on this boat is an elevator that's too slow and a coffee machine that produces oil sludge. Not impressed, Vakarian." There was a burst of laughter, and Shepard nodded briskly. "Alright, that's all we've got. Garrus, Wrex, my quarters in 5 minutes. Everyone else, dismissed."

She walked from the room and headed down the steps, pausing a long moment before the door to Anderson's quarters. Inhaling sharply, she stepped inside.

The crew had been more on top of things than she expected, as it looked as if all her possessions and what she had picked up on the Citadel had already been brought here. Everything of Anderson's was gone, except the bottle of scotch and two glasses on the side table. The room was hardly spacious, a bed, the table, a wardrobe, the computer, a slide down mirror and a tiny, tiny shower tucked behind a slide away panel in one corner. Still...she was finally in charge of her own command. Just not in the way she had ever, ever wanted. She sat listlessly on the bed, putting her face into her hands, and sighed.

"I wish...I wish you were here, David. It's easy to puff up and look tough and confident, but .. for the first time in my life I'm really, really scared. If I fuck this up, it's not just a few platoons of Marines that buy it. It's … everybody. They're expecting me to take your place."

The red-tinted vision raced through her head again, the screaming, the suffering. It was like a splinter of glowing-hot steel punched through her skull, with a dull ache of horror that now suffused her every waking moment. She took a shaky breath, fingering the soft, black material of the Spectre cape. "People who don't even know me expect miracles. Billions of lives are on the line and I don't even know what the fuck is going on." With a sudden movement, she unclipped the softly glowing white badge and hung the cape and the pin on one of the three hooks over the bed. "Dammit... I just wish I could talk to you and … know it was okay."

His voice seemed to echo in her mind. " _But I trust you. I trust you to get it done, no matter what, and to make me proud. You're..the closest thing to a daughter I've got._" She clenched her fists, tightly. His voice was relentless, filled with pride, with trust. "_The psych profile says you hate yourself. That you want to die, but that you're just too good to do so. Maybe you think if you martyr yourself for a big enough reason, that all that you've done in the past will be forgiven – that if you die it will somehow make up for it."_

She inhaled again, wanting to just .. cease. "I deserve to die. Not be.. celebrated."

_" It doesn't work that way, Shepard. This is not a chance for you to die in some attempt to atone for being born the way you were. But to actually improve the lives, the futures, of all humanity."_

She looked up , seeing a distorted reflection of herself in the glossy surface of the doorway, eyes that were pits of hate, a mouth that had shouted the orders that had gotten countless men killed because she wasn't good enough. "I could still fail."

"_Sara, you've never failed at anything you put your will and mind to in your entire life. You aren't about to start now. "_

She slumped, holding her head, when her door chimed. _Shit. The aliens. _Hastily pulling herself together, she got up from the bed. "Enter!"

Garrus came in first, eyes glancing around in several directions, hands loose by his sides, still the stalking predator. Wrex followed, his bulk blocking the view of the mess decks beyond, door shutting behind him with a quiet swoosh. "Yeah?" Shepard glanced over them both, and decided to be direct. "I have no clue if this T'soni woman is in league with Liara or not. Normally, going in to investigate, I'd take some of my own people. But the fact is that if she's in league with Benezia and Saren, I have no intention of trying to arrest and incarcerate a powerful biotic." Garrus and Wrex traded glances, but Garrus was the first to speak. "I think I see, Commander. You worry your own people might … take exception to that."

Shepard shrugged. "I don't honestly know. For a long time people – humans, that is – were never really comfortable around me. And I don't fit in to human culture very well. I had what is considered a very violent , traumatic childhood, and I was a hardened criminal in my youth, but I was also biotic. I was isolated, feared, mistrusted and above all else used like a weapon, not a person. It makes it difficult to connect. I send the wrong signals."

Wrex grunted. "More proof your species is full of fools, if they think you weak or inferior." Shepard shook her head. "No, not weak. Just … dangerous. And fear response in humans is not to figure out where in a predatory pack I fit, or a dominance challenge, but flight. They recoil. They do not reach out." Garrus nodded again. "You worry they.. wont' accept the necessity that this T'soni woman may need to be put down, and attribute it to your... what? Bloodthirstiness? That they might refuse to obey?" His mandibles drew tight to his jaw, and he looked both disturbed and angry. Wrex groaned, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "What a simpering pile of pyjaks. Hostile biotic could reduce this stupid tin ship to splinters. If the bitch is hostile, a bullet to the brain is the only option." He gave a grunt. "Get to the point, Shepard."

Shepard nodded. "Rather than marine units, you two will accompany me when we go to retrieve the doctor. If she's not hostile... or if she's completely innocent, fine and good. We'll escort her back to the ship." Garrus and Wrex traded another glance, and nodded in unison, Garrus's voice dropping an octave. "If she isn't cooperative , or turns out to be in league with Saren, Commander, well, we aren't human. I certainly have no issues in putting a hostile criminal down without wasting money and time on a trial." Wrex's response was more sanguine. "Combat IS trial in krogan law."

Shepard exhaled. "Good to know. Wrex, you may want to go ahead and check how Williams is coming along with your armor. Be polite, if at all possible." Wrex only rolled his eyes. "Women." He exited, thudding footsteps and angry expression clearing his path of two startled looking human crewmen.

Garrus turned to go as well but Shepard held up a hand. "I know Wrex, at least a little, from Torfan. I still haven't had a chance to talk to you. Why are you on this trip?" Garrus frowned. "I told the Council why. Saren... was a hero. Not just to me but to all turians. For him to be evil, to be a traitor, is like the worst betrayal possible. It's … a visceral reaction in us, Commander. It's not something you can control. The extranet says there are already death-squads leaving Palaven hunting for Saren to kill him. As long as he lives, he's a blot on the honor and .. dedication of our whole species." Shepard sat back down on the bed, frowning. "Alright. But forgive me for saying this,you don't seem to be acting like other turians. I heard your whole spiel about being a bad turian, but I don't want a raving hothead either. This isn't about you getting vengeance."

Garrus cocked his head to one side. "Leaving aside for the moment the fact that I already explained I am happy to follow orders than aren't full of shit, ..and the speech you gave saying this was about vengeance for Eden Prime...you're not exactly the one to be cautioning others against hot-hotheadedness. I mean, only one of us has punched out a Geth Prime after charging into more than 70 other geth. I don't call that restraint, Commander." Oddly enough, the way he phrased it made her chuckle, rather than instinctively explain why she felt a need to defend her crew. "Yeah, but I'm good at that sort of thing. You? I'm sure you can shoot, but how good at you when shit goes to pieces and you have a baddy all up in your face?"

The turian folded his arms and leaned back on one leg, the very picture of cocky assurance. "I don't let them get that close. And if they do, well..." His voice lightened , as he spread his ungloved hand, displaying very sharp talons. "...I figure I could take a _stab_ at close range combat."

Shepard felt a giggle bubbling up from someplace deep inside, and stifled it. "Vakarian, that's a horrible pun."

The turian shrugged. "Yeah, but I can hear you trying not to laugh. Did I mention my senses are about ten times better than human baseline? I once shot a merc through the eye , through two walls, just from the sound of his heartbeat. All you need to worry about is if you can keep up." Shepard arched an eyebrow, and then grinned. "Is that a challenge, Vakarian? I think I can get a bigger body count than a big, plated chicken-lizard any day of the week." The C-sec detective gave a preening motion, and tapped something up on his omni-tool. "Ah, yes. This coming from the soft human whose name is based on a follower of sheep. You're on, Commander, just let me know where to pick up my money." Shepard couldn't help it, and burst out laughing. "I think I'll like working with you, Vakarian. I get tired of people being in awe or fear of the great and terrible Butcher of Torfan."

Garrus sobered, with a shrug. "Commander, I can't speak for humans. Your people are still a cipher to most of the Council races, because you all act as if you don't get something right now, it's some kind of personal insult. But from a turian perspective, you're a very good commander. You lead from the front, and you're willing to sacrifice the few for the welfare and protection of the many. A turian who can't make calls like that is weak, and is considered a poor leader. It doesn't really matter what other people think anyway. What matters is that you did what you did for the right reasons."

Shepard thought on this for a long moment, and Garrus arched his back a bit. "I should probably go and get some initial calibrations done on the main guns, Commander. If you need me, I'll be there or in the hangar bay." Shepard nodded. "Very well. And … call me Shepard. Using my rank just gets old after a while." The turian's bright blue eyes met hers for a long second and nodded. "Understood...Shepard."

One mandible flicked in amusement. "Follower of _sheep_."

Shepard made a shooing motion. "Whatever, battle chicken."


	33. Chapter 27 : Saren , Ruminations

**A/N:** _Saren always knowing exactly where to go bothered me as well. If ME 1 was supposed to last months, not days, why is it that we were always one step behind Saren yet always just in time to save the day? _

_Also, this is the first … foreshadowing .. of things to come. Oh, you think Reapers are bad, you need to ask yourself what the hell Sovereign was really talking about when he said they were beyond our comprehension. _

_No one ever bothers to really ask why Saren would make the call that only allying with Sovereign would work. _

* * *

January 25th, 2183 – 11:00 PM

The bridge of the turian light cruiser was as silent as a tomb. The angles were sharp, forming a bowl shape around the pilot, and the deck sloped back and down, into an open triangular arena of sensor stations and gunnery consoles. Upon an elevated deck looking over everything was a massive, slanted chair with a curved back to fit the slope of a turian's spine.

The walls sloped inwards, like the primitive eyries of ancient turians. It was comforting, almost soothing. The clean white surfaces and the silence were the only consolation to Saren at this moment.

The news casts flickered in the holopit below him. The demonstrations, the burning buildings on Palaven. The ranks of the death-squads and hastatim battling one another in front of the Patriarchal Palace. Shattered , dead turians in the streets, rivers of blue gore swirling around the treads of police tanks.

The Council, serenely dooming the galaxy by denying him his due, draping the corrupted shroud of duty over a shaved monkey. The applause. The filthy words of those he had saved from their own ignorance and foolishness , the histrionics of those condemning what they did not understand.

Saren closed his eyes, his talons slowly tamping down around the reinforced arm-rest of the command chair until the metal began to squeal from the sheer pressure of his grip. The asari manning the various consoles in the command alley below did not look his way, calmly fixated on their duties, the Voice gently moving them towards becoming mere gears in a machine of vast complexity and reach.

Saren could almost taste Sovereign's amusement in his thoughts. Ten thousand light years away, and the Voice was still there. _**"Did you expect the pitiful creatures to comprehend what is before them? To thank you for their doom? Organic life is defined by it's meaningless chaos."**_

The Voice was stilled, by a touch on his shoulder. Benezia stood there, dressed in white, smelling like Thessian roses, her stance calm, tranquil. Saren gestured bitterly to the display before him. "My reward for years of service and having my body ruined in the name of the Council. Dishonor. Disgrace. " Benezia slowly walked around in front of him, her magnificent body blocking his view of the ever-continuing farce on all news networks. "It does not matter. In the teachings of Athame, there is a passage that comes to mind. The shadowed path is never traveled in confidence, but in reliance upon one's own judgment. They cannot know what you know, they cannot understand the choice you made because , if presented with the same choice, they would choose wrongly."

Saren shrugged. "Long dead asari philosophers don't comfort me at the moment. Cerberus failed us. The geth failed us. The mercenaries failed us. Defeated by a pack of monkeys, a disgrace of a turian, and a quarian _child._ " He made a gesture with his hands, as if throwing something away. "And yet Sovereign seems pleased. The more we cut ourselves off from others, the more his voice echos in my mind." He sighed. "Regardless of right or wrong, they second guess me, when I never expected them to. I kept this a secret because they would not, cannot understand the stakes. And now, saving us all will be harder than ever."

Benezia shakes her head, and simply sits in his lap, her cool blue skin draining the anger in him as she laid her head against his cheek. "Do you remember when we first met? When your brother first introduced you to me?" Saren , despite himself, gave a little laugh. "How could I forget?"

* * *

"_Brother, this is important." Desolas's voice was, as always, full of self-importance and puffed up regard. Saren had sighed, fidgeting. "I'm sorry , brother. But my thoughts are on the war, not .. research into old artifacts we neither understand or need."_

_Desolas had only smiled, his long, elegant mandibles flicking out in amusement. "Ah, little brother, always seeking the quick pounce and kill. There are greater threats and worries out there than a pack of grown-up pyjack creatures. Bad enough they open blind relay pairs, but what they found on Mir'tha was... not anything we expected."_

_The two walked through the asari gardens, full of blue-green mosses trimmed over ancient stone carvings. Swaying flame-trees, heavy with blue-white blossoms and pendulous fruit, rustled in the ocean breeze. The booming of the surf was offset by the gentle, delicate chanting coming from the temple proper._

_Saren rolled his eyes. "And so we go to a bunch of old asari to ask for how to work the thing? What makes you think they would know anything about this... Arca device?"_

_Desolas' smile had widened. "Asari writing on the casing of the stone containment vessel we found it in. I need them transcribed. And you must always remember that the threat is not the vitha in front of you, but the unseen vakar in the rocks behind you, waiting for you. We can use it or destroy it, but we should never ignore something this powerful. "_

_The building they entered was all sweeping curves and angles, organic and done in blue stones with a glossy, hard finish. The floor was a mosaic of stylized waves, all sweeping towards the middle of the room. A stone plinth stood there, the floor tiles rising up to it's edges in the carved shape of crashing tides, pierced by a set of wide steps leading to the top of the plinth, where a single asari woman levitated, her hands spread, eyes glowing with pure biotic energy. The field encased her whole body, to cascade down the plinth in runnels of cerulean power. _

_Saren felt the under-scaling of his fringe lift in awe. Levitating ones own body weight with biotics was like trying to pick yourself up off the floor by grabbing your belt and pulling. Impossible. But this woman was doing it._

_She exhaled, the thin white robe she wore barely obscuring the heavy curves of her form, the full breasts, the slender waist, the smooth muscled legs. Saren had rarely , if ever, paid close attention to asari females, and was too busy to bother looking for companionship, but something about this woman... got to him. _

_She settled to the stone surface of the plinth, unfolding her legs and coming to her feet with slow, sensuous grace. Her features were noble, almost sorrowful, but her voice was melodic, touched with a trace of age and pain he couldn't grasp. "Desolas, it is good to see you once more."_

_His brother had nodded, bowing. "Matriarch Benezia. Thank you so much for making time to see us. This is my brother, Saren. He's just joined the Deathwatch, and is already on the fast track to becoming a Spectre."_

_Benezia had inclined her head. "Remarkable achievements for one so young. Be welcome to Thessia, Saren Arterius." The gaze went back to her brother. "The documents you sent us are... troubling. The device you describe was once researched by the greatest of the matriarchs, Dilinaga. She and other matriarchs of her time journeyed forth to explore the nature of reality and the galaxy. Most died, others...went insane."_

_Desolas frowned. "I thought asari couldn't really go insane."_

_Benezia shook her head. "It is not uncommon in our younger days, when our passions run high. Far too many huntresses get in over their heads and cannot accept their actions. But yes, for a matriarch to lose her mind after centuries of strengthening it is … unheard of." She paused. "Dilinaga and others wrote of devices like this. Dilinaga said they were dangerous, that they should be destroyed. That they were gateways to places mortals had no place traversing."_

_Desolas shook his head. "They .. you don't understand. They .. converted one of the research staff into … a sort of .. super turian. Bigger. Faster. Stronger. Something that resembles a story out of our ancient past. Valluvian priests. Once the leaders of our community, until , for some reason, the turian people lost their way."_

_The matriarch inclined her head. "You .. are utilizing this device? Without knowing how it functions? That seems both risky and unwise. Regardless of what it may seem to do now, running along the path to improvement without knowing where you are going to end up … often ends badly. The geth and the krogan are both dire examples of such heedless quick fixes."_

_Desolas again shook his head. "We have no choice. Turian society is becoming increasingly partisan, as younger generations begin to ignore the root of what made turians a unified society. How long until we have another Unification War?" He paused. "I appreciate your advice, but I did not come for you to approve my path. I found additional writings, in the ruins. I need to know what they say." _

_He extended a datapad, pulling it from the great black coat he wore over his armor, and handed it to Benezia, who turned it on and paged through it. "It is .. written in a very , very old asari dialect. It says that the path unto the Ones Who Came From Beyond is beset with .. traps for the unwary." She paused, frowning. "Blessed .. or anointed, it's not clear...is the being who Ascends untroubled, with an empty mind and hands to do the work of the Harvesters. But doomed are those .. who seek to control the stuff .. or essence... of the Beyond." She shakes her head. "It appears to be some sort of arcane warning. Those who use the artifact with an empty mind – that is, without any intended use, without any goal -will not suffer, while those who use it with some purpose in mind..."_

_Desolas had nodded. "Of course. That makes .. sense. It's why it didn't affect the human, or me. We never intended to touch it, it just happened in the course of our struggle." His voice trailed off, as he sat motionless, lost in thought._

_Saren frowned. "Brother?"_

_Desolas had waved him to silence. "You've helped immensely, just by this simple translation, Matriarch. Thank you."_

_Benezia looked at the both with troubled eyes. "Do not thank me for this. I say again, there is no path to improvement of the self that can be safely trodden with speed and haste. I would research this .. artifact carefully, and not expose living beings to it. Dilinaga's warnings were never clear, but they were always most dire... and if this is what she and the other matriarchs ran into, anything that would drive a matriarch insane is nothing to experiment upon."_

_But as always, Desolas would never listen. _

* * *

Saren sighed. "Am I any better than Desolas? Is my choice...just wrong?" He ignored the twinge of pain in his head, the whispering in his mind, his eyes fixed on Benezia's pure blue ones.

Benezia did not reply, only wrapping her hand around his wrist. After a very long moment, she closed her own eyes, unable to meet his searching gaze, her breath flitting across the skin below his plates, tickling. "I don't know. A part of me, I suppose, no longer cares. And a part of me, I think, is … sealed away, screaming, telling me to flee." Saren looked at her, but she didn't open her eyes. He just wrapped an arm around her waist, waiting. She spoke again, almost hesitant. "But I do not flee. You are here, and I am with you until my heart beats no longer, whatever the cost. As to.. what you asked..."

A long moment of silence passed, the only sound the gentle beat of her heart, her breathing, the only smell the scent of her filling his senses. She was his universe. Her voice, when she spoke again, was quiet, but tremulous. "One spends all their life in examination of each second, and when we think we know best, we are often simply ignoring what we wish not to have to accept. But... if what we have been told is true..it doesn't matter." Saren trailed a single talon against her neck. "It's all life in the galaxy."

Benezia's blue eyes opened, and they were filled with tears. "And that is a tragedy. But it's nothing against what it told us was beyond the dark spaces of the galaxy. My mind still can't even grasp the .. the size and power of such a thing. Is the choice you have made right? I don't know. But it's the only choice we have that doesn't end in darkness everlasting." Saren sighed. "All we have to do is... prove we are … worthy. The fact that the Reapers have chosen to hide , to cower in a handful of galaxies, to .. cast a pitiful cloak of protection over a few puddles of life, rather than fight, even with all their power..."

Benezia nods. "You don't just hope to save our people. You hope to .. influence them. To change the minds of gods, who protect us from demons." She gave a small, almost bitter laugh. "15,000 years of technological progress, and we are reduced to casting our thoughts in the shape of myths and superstition. And those who claim to lead and guide us are blinded, even as they seek to lead us into a future that exists only in dreams."

Saren shuddered, and he made a motion to stand. She slid from his form and he stood stiffly, cracking his neck and fluttering a mandible. His glare settled on the holopit, displaying footage from Eden Prime, and he gestured the asari on the deck below to cut it off. "That's … what makes me so angry. I have served faithfully for years. I discover a threat so .. overwhelming, so dangerous, that it could obliterate all sentient life in the galaxy. A threat we can't hope to fight, can't hope to defeat...and if we did, through some miracle...would leave ourselves open to a worse menace. Be a slave, be melted down into base components, or .. watch something that doesn't even belong in our damned frame of reality _eat _us, or tear the universe apart with the same dark energy we use for every part of our technology. "

Benezia shrugged. "When this started, you wanted to take it to the Council, a Council who wouldn't have understood. A Council that would have .. misused what you found. Or tried to. They would not have listened. And you did what .. you had to do. You've spent all your life defending the galaxy, making the right calls. They should have trusted you in this." Saren nodded, stalking around his chair. "And that hurts. That they don't trust me to make this call. I know.. we. .I.. have been influenced. My brother was influenced, and he lost it, and I had to kill him to save Palaven. I know Qian had lost his damned mind. But I took the data I had and I went with it. I didn't rush into this."

He clenched his fist. "The Council tells me to protect the galaxy. I sacrifice my arm for that. My skin. My organs. I blow up my own **brother**. I kill, until I am drowned in blood. I become as hard as stone, just to be told I'm 'too extreme'. I stop the things in the dark that the average fool citizen of the galaxy can't even imagine. The red sand labs making the drugs from the ground up brains of asari children. The slaver rings selling modified hanar. The mercenaries who feed their vorcha on the corpses of the ship crew's they've killed. I stop the worst of it, and now, when faced with a challenge they can't handle, when I take it on myself to do what must be done...now they tell me I am a traitor? That I go too far?"

Benezia wrapped both of her hands around Saren's, gently and slowly pulling his hand down to rest on her stomach. "You are doing the best you can. Only children and fools believe that all things can be accomplished without sacrifice, or pain. Qian's own data showed that Sovereign wasn't lying. There are many, many stars suffering the dark-energy suffusion he spoke of, it's just that most of them do not possess planets, or are too far from a linking mass relay." Benezia sighed and her grip on his hand tightened. "What the Council thinks...does not matter. I know you. I know your heart. You didn't want to do what happened on Eden Prime, or kill your friend. You lost control because you were disgusted with what you had to do. If we had explained beforehand, nothing would have changed."

Saren looked away. "That .. everything is just a blur now. Not even shades of gray. Just smears of black and blurs of concepts like duty and honor. " He very gently pulled his hand free, caressing her cheek. "You are losing your mind right along side me, trying to keep me together. I see the pain in your eyes. I see the stress, the slackness of your ribs when I hold you. You aren't eating." Benezia elegantly pulled away, fingers trailing along his forearm. "Life is not in the living, or the actions thereof, but in the intersected moment between decision and regret or enjoyment. I have no time left for mourning choices unmade, and unwanted." There was a silence , then, and Saren sighed. "I wish this had never happened. That I was on that beach on Thessia, feeling the surf crash between my talons, the sand smooth and hot against my back, reveling in your scent, your taste, that first time." He looked at her sorrowfully. "If life is not in the living, why does that moment call me more than any other?"

Benezia smiled, and her eyes were dark with memory. "Athame tells us that we cling to those moments that anchor us, in times of darkness and fear, and that they are the fire that drives our lives. Siari, on the other hand, says that in every happy moment there is the sadness of losing it , in every tragedy the triumph of survival. That we must mold ourselves to our memories, not the reverse."

Saren did not move. "If only it were that simple, love." He examined his omni-tool, frowning. "The team I sent after Liara should have reported in by now. If that meat-headed krogan has failed..." Benezia's expression tightened. "She'll come. Once she realizes her once-foolish obsession is exactly what I need, that her knowledge is useful, she'll... come around. I will apologize, she will cry, I will say wise words of comfort, and .. we will be much closer to finding the Conduit. No other researcher has had the mental flexibility to look at the Prothean extinction the way she has." There was a tiny note of emotion in her voice, and Saren cocked his head , his rugged face set in an expression of incredulosity. "All those years of being upset with your daughter for digging in the dirt, and you still are proud of her?" Saren laughed, and shook his head. "You are... always unexpected, Benezia."

The asari matriarch's mouth was set in a frown, but her eyes were more alive than they had been a few minutes before. "She and I disagree on many things. Just as I did with her.. .father. But she is still my daughter. If she tries to stop us, I will have to kill her, and I will... feel pain. I will never forgive myself , but I will not hesitate. But if she can help us, if she can help save everything we know from the fire that comes...then why would I not be proud of her?"

She turned to look at the cockpit, the narrow window showing the black emptiness of space. "Do not worry about the mercenary. They have probably just heard about your disbarment, and have already taken her back to Virmire. We still have no leads on where the Exogeni beacon is, Saren...we might as well go back home and see what leads Rana has turned up." Saren nodded. "Navigator, to Virmire. Send messages to the Geth to alert us when that raid on Exogeni HQ is ready to proceed."

Saren turned from the bridge, and Benezia followed him, as if joined by some chain none could see them but them.


	34. Chapter 28 : Therum , Arrival

**A/N:** _Listening to Angerfist as I write this...poor geth, I almost feel sorry for them. _

_I never liked the game's approach on Therum, especially with the drop ship just leaving enemies in our path. The Normandy could have blasted the thing from the sky in a moment's notice. And as soon as I got to the point where the Mako could not fit through the gap, I knew I was facing a boss fight.  
_

_Don't worry, I haven't forgotten the leapers. They'll show up soon enough. This one is a little short, comparatively speaking. The next one is longer.  
_

* * *

January 26th , 1:00 AM

Every breath came with a pained gasp now, as the agony in her arms and back radiated out in all directions, unceasing. Liara no longer remembered how long she had been stuck in the same position, couldn't quite recall what day it was, or anything except the endless craving of thirst and the ache of her limbs.

The heat flowed past her like a tide, occasionally stirring faint winds within the cavern. These were her only relief. A part of her mind, incoherent and babbling, wondered at the Prothean technology that allowed air and wind to reach her forehead, allowed sweat to drip from her exhausted form to splatter against the white tile floor below, but wouldn't let her move an inch. It let the radiating heat of the cavern slowly cook her alive, but it stopped the blasts and energies of the various weapons and devices the geth turned on the field in their attempts to crack it.

The hulking krogan stood in front of her, it's wicked-looking armor glowing faintly, it's mouth crooked in a sneering leer. "You don't look so hot, blue." It lifted a pitcher of water to it's maw, drinking it slowly, before pouring the rest over his crest and letting it splash wastefully all over the ground. Liara whimpered, and the krogan laughed. "Guess you must be pretty thirsty by now, huh? Too bad. Couple of more hours, and the geth tell me they'll have their little device all ready to go."

Liara swallowed painfully. Her body was coated in sweat, and the stink of brandy as it oozed from her system was overwhelming. Her eyes felt dry and her skin felt tight, almost as if it would split open. Her uniform was a mess, discolored rings and dampness radiating out from her neck, her armpits, her chest. She bit her lip as she remembered the humiliation of warm urine trickling down her legs, the smell wafting up to her, making her want to vomit.

She couldn't quite remember what water tasted like, or any smell besides the waft of brimstone, or the stench of her own body, or the meaty, animal smell of her tormenter. In the background, the geth chattered to themselves, electronic signals no doubt flying back and forth, high speed binary audio transmissions coordinating their work.

_Foul, pale beetles, eager and hungry to feast on my withered flesh. _

She closed her eyes, not willing to watch the vile krogan in front of her taunt her with water and food any longer. Her throat was so dry it felt as if it would collapse, but she gritted her teeth and spoke, forcing her voice to calm. "If I could get out of this trap I would. Why must you torment me?"

The krogan grunted. "Because you are soft, weak, and stupid. Why else?"

A sound, from above. Geth chatter. She opened her eyes, seeing two geth approaching the krogan. "Weryloc-strikeleader, dropship 441-Echo has detected a mass translation into the system , but cannot identify any associated ship with said entry."

The krogan blinked , a stupid expression marring it's already ugly features. "What the hell does that even mean?" The geth's voice was as patient and calm as it was artificial and cold. "Observed patterns at Eden Prime by Nazara-Giver-of-Future match this data pattern. A mass entry, with no associated ship, implies heat-suppressive cloaking. Only one vessel matches this profile. SSV Normandy, Human-Alliance vessel. Latest intelligence suggests vessel is in operation-command of Shepard-Predator, threat level NoCarrier. Recommend defensive posture."

The krogan folded his massive arms. "Alright, but do it quietly and carefully. We're a long way from the human towns, but we don't have the numbers to fend off the infantry battalion stationed on the planet. Tell the frigate to get it's shields up and weapons hot. Get the Colossus back in one piece, first of all, and get all the .. whatcha call 'ems, armatures ready. Block the approaches."

The geth turned away, and the krogan grunted in irritation. "Damned humans...I'd tell you to stay put, but I figure you're not going anywhere. Heh, heh, heh." The thing stumped away, drawing it's oversized weapons.

Liara pondered quietly on what she had just heard. Despite the geth's caution, she didn't feel much better. The chances of a human vessel coming to a human world were not low, but they wouldn't be looking for her. She didn't recognize the name Shepard at first, but she kept prodding her mind, trying to think past the killing heat and the thirst. Realization came thickly, as if her memory was some kind of sap slowly leaking into the open.

_Of course. The news stories about Eden Prime. . . Shepard ….was the human in charge of that. The one that destroyed the geth..._

She sighed. Maybe the humans had gotten some kind of reports about geth. Maybe one of the townspeople had come this way and reported sighting them, and the humans were here to fight them. But the chances were not high...

Liara closed her eyes once more, and tried to focus on meditating, to calm her body and cling to life. She had no other options.

* * *

"Clear of the relay, commander. Comm links with the planet are open, no sign of geth ships in the area. Drift is just under 2100k. Systems nominal." Joker's hands danced across his flight board, and he grinned. "Stealth systems engaged."

Shepard stood in full armor on the bridge, right behind Joker. "Noted. Ops, give me a full orbital scan, I want to know if there are any ships in orbit." Pressley's voice came through the bridge speaker. "Yes, ma'am. Showing … two, no make that three ships. Two heavy ore-haulers, the _Random Kiss_ and the _Call of Ancestors_. Registered out of Irune, volus ships. Authenticated travel passes and customs documentation, both powered down. Looks like they're here to haul ore back to Bekenstein."

Shepard nodded. "And the third?"

Pressley's voice took on an edge. "It looks like a light turian frigate. _Unbroken Honor._ Registered to . . . huh, a krogan. Weryloc Gulm. I didn't know krogan had ships, much less _turian_ ones. In any event...it's not flying a flag and it's powered up, with full kinetic barriers. Waste of fuel in orbit, unless they're expecting trouble." "Pressley, run the history. Joker, keep us in stealth and bring us in behind that ship. Wrex! Run the name, Weryloc Gulm."

Wrex's voice rumbled back a few moments later. "Gulm was employed by Saren 4 months ago. Broker has footage of him taking a payment, and records … the sneaky pyjack... looks like he has an "understanding" with someone on the CDEM. Bastard is running mercs for the Blood Pack out of the krogan DMZ. No proof he's with Saren...but he has no reason to be here. Not much call for mercs on this ball of rock. " Pressley's voice sounded again. "Ships history is blank, Commander. But the blanking was done courtesy of a turian captain, one Thatnas Rykarial. No real details."

Shepard tapped her commlink. "Detective, you know anything about a Captain Thatnas Rykarial?" Garrus's voice sounded weary as he replied. "Yeah.. unfortunately. Two-bit thug operating out of Omega, he got cashiered out of the Turian Defense Forces after losing a heavy cruiser to a human frigate in the Relay 314 incident. Pretty much a ship dealer out of Omega now...supplies the Blood Pack with off-the-record light frigates or freighters." Shepard sighed. "Thanks, Detective." She reached across the status board and punched the alert sigil, and tabbed open the 1MC. "All hands, battle stations." Turning it off, she turned back to Joker. "Bring us in tight, battle formation, and lock weapons on that ship."

Joker moved his hands in complex patterns, pulling down a targeting panel from the haptic screens to his right. "On it, Commander. Guns or missile?" Shepard tapped her chin. "Guns for now. Open comms." Joker tapped something, then nodded.

"Independent vessel _Unbroken Honor_,this is Commander Shepard, Office of Special Reconnaissance and Tactics. Your ship is in human space, unregistered and not flying a port of origin flag. Stand down your barriers and prepare for boarding."

The frigate did not respond, only breaking orbit and turning to face them. Shepard shrugged. "Dumb asses. Joker, fire for effect, missiles free." "Aye, ma'am. Firing now." The heavy frontal guns of the Normandy were 40 mm behemoths, set in a gimbaled mount that rotated smoothly to the bearing of the target and fired three times. At the same time, doors along the front of the ship slid away, and 2 missiles erupted from the ship.

The turian-made vessel got off a single shot before the shots from the Normandy tore into it's shields, detonating violently. A few moments later, the two heavy missiles crashed into the hull, sending burning wreckage flying apart as the ship exploded. Shepard just shook her head in cold amusement as the hulk of the now shattered frigate tumbled through space, a corona of shattered metal and bits of the interior jetting out, the occasional flames burning from what atmosphere was rushing from the hull.

"Nice shots, Joker. Adams, damage report." Adams voice was calm and almost amused. "Didn't even spike the energy draw on the kinetic barriers, ma'am. Turian weapons suck about as much as their coffee makers, I say."

Shepard grinned, and then pulled up the comm unit to ops again. "Pressley, any comms from the surface?"

The broad-shouldered navigator came up to the cockpit a moment later, his already dour features set in a frown. "Yes, ma'am. Some kind of tight-beam transmission from the surface, doesn't look like they had time to respond. The... transmission is encrypted, but it's similar to some of the comm chatter we got on Eden Prime." Shepard's eyes hardened. "The location?" Pressley extended a datapad. "Pretty much on top of the dig site we were given coordinates to, ma'am. That ship can't have been at ready status for long...I'm guessing they saw our FTL heat-flash and dispersion before we went to stealth."

Joker frowned. "Yeah, but so what? This is the first ship of it's kind. The only other place we've even had a chance to pull that maneuver was... " Joker's frown turned to realization. "Shit, that means the geth are here?" Pressley straightened. "That's the only data that would account for them being ready for a fight , ma'am."

Shepard exhaled, and tapped the 1MC sigil again. "Marine Security Detail,stand to for hot drop. Wrex, Garrus, get suited and meet me in the hanger bay. Prepare the ship for atmospheric battle stations." She clicked it off, and looked over at Joker. "Get us in fast and low, Flight Lieutenant. I want a landing site within range of the Mako's guns and close enough that the marines can hoof it, but not so close we get surrounded."

Joker's hands moved through menus, and the ship tilted downwards. "All over it, ma'am."

* * *

Alenko walked down the line of marines, examining their gear, his Avenger loose in his hands. "Alright, let's keep this nice and tight, people. 1st squad will drop at position fourty tac four dash two, and set up as long range fire support and sniper suppression. 2nd squad will drop after the Mako deploys, to the south, position one eighty tac one dash six, ready to move in on the Commander's order. Master Sergeant, you're sure you're up for this?" The grizzled black sergeant puffed arrogantly on a cigar, an eye-patch with the Systems Alliance "A" on it covering his ruined left eye. "Hell yeah, LT. Little stiff around the middle." He slapped the massive Revenant LMG in his hands. "But Sally here has everything Uncle Cole needs."

Alenko chuckled. "Alright then." Alenko turned to face Shepard. "All present and accounted for, ma'am." Shepard nodded, wearing the black and silver Spectre armor, the insignia on the shoulder glowing faintly. "Lieutenant, lethal force is authorized. Anything that does not immediately stand down, put a slug in it." Alenko nodded, but frowned. "Ma'am, what about the researcher?" Shepard's eyes were like ice as she slammed down the mirrored visor of her helmet. "_Anything, _Lieutenant." She turned away, clambering up into the back of the Mako, and the triangular hatch sealed shut behind her.

Joker's voice range out over the intercom. "Incoming ground fire. I show one five geth firing platforms, approximately three zero infantry units. Evasive maneuvers. "Alenko grabbed the ripline running down one side of the hanger bay a moment before the ship slid to one side under shuddering impacts. "Minimal effect. First drop zone in ten seconds."

Cole shouted, his voice booming in the narrow confines of the bay. "Get ready to ride 'em, boys and girls." The master sergeant tapped a control on his omni-tool and music began blaring, the high jazz sounds of Little Richard's "Long Tall Sally" filling the air. "Cocked, locked and ready to rock, Marines!" The hangar bay door slid down with a sudden whoosh of displaced air, and the ripline the marines were tied to launched out and down, a heavy harpoon at the end slamming into the dirt below as the marines slid down one after another. Geth plasma fire tinkled around them, and even as the marines slid down the line, they opened fire, the booms of Mattocks and the snarling of Avengers nearly drowned by the high-pitched scream of the Master Sergeant's Revenant.

Alenko slapped his comm unit. "1st squad away!" The Normandy lurched, missiles flaring as it laid down a line of suppressive fire so that the squad could dig in, and the view from the open hanger bay swayed sickeningly. Joker's voice was tense, the sound of alarms in the background undercutting his voice. "Shit, the fucking geth have surface to space missiles!"

A moment later the ship rocked, sending Alenko nearly tumbling to his knees, only the ripline keeping him aloft. Williams shot him concerned look, pulling him back up, her eyes wide. "Is it always this crazy?" Alenko shouted over the wind roaring through the hanger bay. "No! Joker's a goddamned lunatic!"

The ship settled a bit, and with a series of heavy thuds , the Mako roared out , mass effect flares firing to stabilize it as it soared down through the air. Alenko grimaced as a headache started, and hoped Joker could at least drop 2nd squad off somewhere quieter.

* * *

"_**SPIRITS OF FIRE HELP ME! SHEPARD**_!" The turian looked as if he was about to panic, eyes nearly popping out of his plated head as the Mako fell 300 feet straight down, the ground rushing towards them at terrifying speed and growing closer ever second. Wrex,on the other hand, was already in the turret, firing and cheering.

With a final heavy blast of mass-effect fields to slow it's fall, the Mako slammed heavily into the ground, landing almost perpendicular to some light barriers the geth had thrown up as cover. These splintered and flew back under the impact of the huge battle tank, crashing into the geth ranks with titanic force. One was bisected by a flying piece of metal, sheared in half to splatter white cooling fluid on the ground. Two more were hit by large spars of metal and driven to the ground, the light in their eyes fading in a chatter of desperate communications attempts.

The other five were stunned and knocked on their back. Wrex meant to fire the twin coaxial machine guns, but instead triggered the main gun, not quite used to the human tank controls. There was a heavy blast of heat and force, and a raining patter of burning, shattered geth parts began to bounce of the tank, making a collection of thuds and thunks.

Shepard glared over her shoulder at the torso of the krogan. "Overkill much, Wrex?"

The krogan's voice came through the internal comm-link of the Mako. "Sorry, the term doesn't seem to translate into Tuchankan. Heh, heh, heh."

Garrus groaned. "Figures. I thought you were completely mad, Shepard, driving this tank out of the bay like that. Didn't you primitives ever develop ramps?" Shepard gunned the engine. "Less fun, too slow, and doesn't let you do tricks." Garrus frowned, mandibles quivering. "Tricks?"

Shepard grinned. "Like this." The Mako lurched ahead, careening carelessly off the rock wall to the right and launching it's bulk down the sharply angled walls of the dig site, almost flipping over as it did so. The ground was rough, almost baked looking red, mixed here and there with black flows of obsidian or discolored shelves of shale.

The dig site was dug into the side of the mountain, the slopes lousy with digging machines, cranes, platforms, and dozens of crates. A few heavy warehouse-looking buildings completed the picture, along with the tunnel-like access point to the dig site itself, accessible via a spindly looking stairway.

Garrus was not amused with their rapid descent, being tumbled around in the back. "You spirits-damned lunatic! Who taught you to drive, a blind vorcha?" Shepard laughed. "Armored units have a saying about nimble armor platforms. Drive it like you stole it!" Garrus's voice was unmeshed, harmonics lapping together in a mumble. "I've seen stolen aircars on fire better handled than this!"

1st squad was upon the ridge overlooking the site, a steady stream of fire pouring down into the little bowl-like depression the mountain sat in. Already, several geth units lay still and broken, like bizarre modern art works in pools of milky gunk. The geth huddled behind crates and were clearly waiting for something, just pinning the 1st squad in place with their own return fire. In the distance, another missile erupted from the ground beyond the ridge to slam into the Normandy's kinetic barriers, only to be answered by angry streams of GARDIAN laser fire.

"Shepard! Contact!" Wrex's voice seemed alarmed. Shepard threw the Mako into a tight spin, letting the machine come to a hull-down stop in the lee of a large boulder that was marked by some kind of spray-painted scrawl about coordinates. "Colossus!"

Shepard looked out the convex, heavy plexan windows, as a silvery spider with a curved spire topped with blue fire hove into view, it's bulk vast and ponderous as it rounded the corner of one of the peripheral buildings. The geth pinning the 1st squad in place increased their rate of fire, as the Colossus turned to aim at the ridge. "Shit! It's going to fire on my men! Take it out, Wrex!"

The M-35 's gun boomed, and the Colossus staggered, its heavy legs crashing into a crate and reducing it to kindling, its single, massive eye glowed blue-white as it turned to face it's attacker. The eye pulsed, plasma waves coruscating out to wash over the Mako , sending the entire tank sliding back a few feet, white fire erupting over it's surface as the shields struggled to absorb the blast. Wrex snarled as his own shields flared out under the impact. "Dammit, Shepard! Get us into better cover!"

Shepard threw the machine in reverse, the heavy wheels locking down on the terrain below it, throwing the tank backwards and out of the way of the next blast, which reduced the rock wall to a bubbling expanse of glowing red-hot stone. Wrex fired again, combining the main gun with streams of fire from the machine guns as well. Tiny little pinpricks of light danced across the Colossus, a moment before Wrex's shot sent the thing stumbling again. This time, however, it's legs and head collided with the scaffolding supporting one of the cranes. With a groan of tortured, bent metal and the rumble of failed struts snapping like twigs, the entire assembly came down. The colossus's massive curved head tilted up for a second before a 12-ton crane arm smashed into it, crumpling the machine in a single blow. Dust and fire licked up around it in a billowing cloud that obscured everything except the low blast of several minor explosions.

Joker's voice sounded. "Commander, I've downed some of the armatures, but the rest have 2nd squad pinned down. Orders?"

Shepard thought furiously. The geth fighting 1st squad were already wounded, and much less of a threat without the Colossus. She was in a tank. Chances were good that she could take them out and get to the entry to the dig site, but without 1st squad to back her up if they were outnumbered once inside it would be messy. Still...if she didn't... _ 2__nd__ squad will be paste, and 1__st__ squad will follow soon thereafter._

She tapped her commlink, voice urgent and hard. "Joker, task 1st squad with supporting second, and keep those damned armatures down. I'll handle clean up here." She saw the Normandy's silver talon shape angle high and into the sky, GARDIAN lasers lancing down in clean strikes of white light. "Wrex, target those geth near the ridge."

"On it."

The Mako's main gun barked, and geth went flying in all directions from the blast, accompanied by bits of cover and the occasional severed geth arm or leg. Shepard floored the gas, the heavy tank rushing forward to overrun the geth position. There was a thudding crack as she blasted through the low concrete wall they had been cowering behind, and then high pitched digital screams as geth were shorn in half by the sharp nose of the Mako, or crushed under heavy wheels. One geth managed to snag it's hand and foot along the stowage rails that ran down the left side of the tank, angling itself up, it's other hand still holding a plasma shotgun. Wrex tried to get the turret inline with the thing, but the coax guns weren't built to move at that angle, and Wrex was wedged too tightly in the turret to draw his weapons. "Shit!"

Garrus moved, unbuckling his belt with a single move even as his other hand pulled out his pistol. A booted foot kicked open the back hatch, and with one hand, Garrus locked his talons around the seal and threw himself out , pulling up as he did so, managing to flip himself over and onto the top of the tank. He landed with a thud on one armored knee, nearly wrenching his shoulder out of socket, thrusting the Talon pistol into the geth's glowing eye before firing. The blast , at the range of all of four inches, was as if the geth had been hit in the head with a slug of burning steel, the fragmenting splinters that formed the mass accelerated pellet tearing off into crazy fractal patterns as they bounced around inside the armor plating that formed the geth's body before bursting free in a dozen gory blossoms of white fluid. The shattered machine gave a stricken , abbreviated cry before falling free, and Garrus sneered. "No ticket, no ride."

Shepard brought the Mako to a rolling halt, and Garrus let go of the hatchway, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Wrex slid down and out of the turret platform, his heavy bulk having to wriggle a bit to fit through the hatch and out into the rocky ground. "Pretty brave, for a turian. You could have just let him shoot me." Garrus shrugged. "And have to pick your heavy carcass up to get you out of the Mako? No thanks." Shepard exited as well, pulling free the Revenant she had picked up from the Spectre offices on the Citadel. Scattered in a line along the tracks of the Mako were quite a few dead or shattered geth. A few still twitched feebly, and Garrus put his pistol away and extended the blocky form of his anti-material rifle. A moment later, and with two sharp booms, the battlefield was still except for the wind-blown dust, and the distant sound of a firefight over the ridge.

Shepard grimaced. "Hopefully, the majority of the geth are still over there, tied up with 1st and 2nd squad. If we're lucky, we can get in and find the scientist without facing superior numbers."

Garrus nodded. "Well, I'm already one up on you on the kill counts, so the fewer geth we face the more likely my victory." Shepard snorted, heading for the staircase leading inside the dig. "Hardly, turtle-boy, the ones I killed in the Mako count."

Garrus muttered. "Driving like that, I'm amazed the casualties didn't include US."

* * *

Below the earth, Liara heard the blasts , the shaking of the ground, runnels and trickles of dust cascading down from the ceiling as a battle raged above.

She closed her eyes, biting her lip in hope. _Someone is coming. Goddess, thank you. _


	35. Chapter 29 : Therum , Rage

**A/N:** _The ending of Therum bothered me. How can a mining laser set off a volcano? Why, if you have an active volcano going off, do we never see lava? If the damned structure is that sensative, how did they even dig into it in the first place. _

___Also, I am not a fan of traditional rescue scenes. We're always told Liara is this biotic badass, but we rarely get to see it. Liara always struck me as the kind of person who could be really strong when she was angry or scared, and just kind of meh all the rest of the time. __ I had to modify the Armature Suplex a bit... but I think it works better this way, actually.  
_

* * *

January 26th , 1:40 AM

The entry to the dig site was a cylindrical hole in the side of the mountain, a common enough setup for miners who dug core shafts to test for mineral densities. The door was a heavy, hydraulic powered slab of metal that opened fitfully when the controls were activated, leading down into a sharply sloped tunnel lined with wires and overhead lights. As a rule, Shepard never liked going into dark holes sealed with heavy doors, as they all reminded her of Torfan, and the final assault.

_Then again, nothing else can be that bad. _

Shepard took point, swapping her LMG for the blunt, vicious ODIN shotgun, it's under-barrel light flicking on automatically in the dim interior of the tunnel. The Spectre armor she war circulated cool, clean air around her, the mirrored faceplate lit up on the inside with video links in the corners of her view and an integrated targeting system tied to sensors in her hand, wrist, and arm. Her steps were quiet, the heavy boots of the armor rubberized and built with tiny mass effect shock absorbers to silence her steps.

Garrus followed, hunched over slightly, eyes tracking every moment as he held his heavy sniper at a ready position. He'd augmented his usual load out with a bandoleer of heavy splinter shells for the assault rifle he had checked out of the Normandy's armory, and Forlan's pistol was holstered on his hip. Heat wafted up from the end of the tunnel, washing over his angular features, making him blink a bit. "It's .. hot. Why is that?"

Wrex brought up the rear, gigantic shotgun making careful sweeps as he towered over the other two, the door falling shut behind him as they moved along the tunnel. "The air is moving, but it's... dead." The krogan's grip on his own weapon was tight, as he sniffed the air almost suspiciously. "If someone is here, they've been gone at least a day or so." Shepard triggered the door at the far end of the tunnel and rolled out, shotgun making an arc, covering her back. "Clear." Garrus stepped through, his legs making a wide spread as he stabilized himself, Wrex squeezing past him to straighten to his full height.

The three stood on a narrow, corroded metal platform, high above a pit that must have descended hundreds of feet. The chewed gashes in the walls and heavy iron girders around the edge of the pit spoke of rapid digging, but empty soda cans, bits of food wrappers, and a pile of boxes with salarian markings indicated it had been lived in for some time. Wires trailed down the pit in a messy string sloppily tied together with plastic strips and nailed into the rock with heavy spikes. A single staircase circled the edges of the pit, spiraling down into darkness, the occasional field light clamped to the thin metal railings.

"So, descend the creepy rickety metal staircase into the dark, bottomless pit most likely filled with geth. You bring us to such nice places, Commander." Garrus' voice was wry, as he put away his sniper rifle and pulled out his pistol.

"Let's get moving. We don't have time to waste." Shepard's voice was curt and cool as she moved ahead. Silently they moved along the stairs, hearing nothing and seeing no movement. Occasionally they passed by openings in the rock – squarish tunnels, slashed into the walls, ending a few dozen feet in. Crates marked "Univ. Thess" or "Univ. Althara" filled these, along with chunks of white, glossy material and bits of trash.

After almost 5 minutes of descent, they reached a broad, open metal platform, crossing the pit and opening into a cave gallery. An elevator was set along the far wall, pulleys and support systems sunk into the rock with heavy beams, a rather worn out looking generator next to it sputtering along with assorted rattling noises. The rest of the space was given over to an expanse of bone-white wall, covered in thin, almost elegant inscriptions that were in no language Shepard had seen but somehow looked vaguely familar. She stepped closer, frowning. "This must be part of the dig site. .. .but where are the researchers? Did the geth kill them?"

Garrus glanced around. "No sign of a firefight. No geth head sinks, no empty ammo blocks." He pointed to where computers had been neatly stacked, along with crates covered in shipping labels and warning signs. "No blood spatters and everything is neatly stacked. Looks like whoever was here was pulling out, or about it." Wrex sniffed the air, warily. "I don't smell any blood. Just dust, and …." He frowned. "Burning rock. Lava. Brimstone. Shepard, that's where the heat is coming from. This isn't a mountain. It's an old inactive volcano." Garrus nodded thoughtfully. "Never been around lava, I wondered what that was. I thought something below had caught fire."

Shepard shrugged, tearing her gaze from the inscriptions, ignoring the shiver that suddenly shot down her spine. "Let's take the elevator. Maybe there's answers, or this T'soni person, down below." They entered the elevator carefully, and Wrex threw a lever, sending it slowly into a descent. Shepard's comms system flashed and she tapped her link. "What's the status topside, Joker?"

The flight lieutenant's voice was a bit static-blurred, but clear enough to make out. "1st and 2nd squads report all hostiles terminated. They took a lot of fire. Rodriguez , Smith, and Patterson are down with heavy bleeding, and Jackson took a slug in the knee and can't walk."

Shepard sighed. "Understood. How many effectives left?"

Cole's rough voice cut in. "4. Williams , myself, Lelong, and Anders. The LT is alright, but he took a shot in the thigh, and he has a bad migrane. Says his biotics are .. .erratic. We're down by some kind of landing pad up on the ridge, there's some medical supplies here and .. .luggage. Label's say it's T'soni's. We don't see any bodies...but ..." Shepard grimaced. "Take it with you and fall back to the Normandy. I think we're okay, the geth seem to have focused their efforts topside. As long as no one died, there's no point risking their lives just to cover my six. Joker, notify Chakwas."

"Aye,ma'am. I'll bring her in close after I do one more sweep of the area.. I keep getting some kind of light ladar ping I can't pin down." Shepard nodded. "Cole, send someone to grab the Mako, you can start first aid on your casualties with it, and it's going to be a lot easier to get everyone back on the Normandy that way. When we're done here, you can bring the ship close into the dig site itself, it's secure now." Shepard cut off the comm, and glanced around. They had descended quite a ways now, and the rock was an endless sheet of hard granite on the left. To the right, the entire pit was now white , glossy and hard, apparently the surface of the Prothean ruin. Occasionally wide, oval corridors stretched off into the darkness, or ended in flat white walls covered in strange symbols. "Pretty big dig. Must have been some kind of tower, I guess."

Garrus nodded, while Wrex looked bored, flipping his shotgun's safety off and on. With a shriek of metal, the elevator slowed. "Looks like we're coming to a stop." The cage of the elevator bottomed out with a thud. A second later, there was an electronic chittering noise , and geth plasma darts flooded the cab. Shepard threw herself down, ducking under the fusillade, as did Garrus. Wrex, on the other hand, simply roared as he was hit several times, and put his head down as he charged the elevator gate, which parted like rotten wood before his bulk. Barreling out of the elevator, he skidded on the metal walkway beyond it, lifting his shotgun to fire several blasts. An electronic sound of pain rang out, as something white was flung down, burning from the inferno shells it had been impaled with.

Shepard cursed, and ran for it, throwing herself into a ball and rolling behind the bulk of the krogan. She came up even as Garrus slammed himself to one side of the elevator, using the edges of the frame as light cover. The cavern beyond was large, probably 100 feet deep and very high. Broad shelves of rock connected to the cavern floor with rough ramps, while standing spot lights and the occasional hung field lamp cast a sterile white illumination over everything, sharp black shadows pooling around the tents , equipment and crates that bulked along one side of the cavern. In the middle of the cavern a massive mining laser sat, it's red-tinted focusing tip disconnected and set on a table next to it. She didn't see a single geth. She swept her weapon across her field of vision, eying the dark spots between two tents. Nothing met her gaze but all-concealing shadows and blaring searchlights, the combination ruining her ability to pick out movement.

There was a scrabble of rock _above_ her, and she rolled onto her back, firing instinctively. Wrex spun on his heel as something white and fast slammed into Shepard, the cheap metal walkway splintering as it crashed into her and both fell a dozen feet to the cavern floor below. She struggled with the thing in the dim light, as it squirmed and bucked in her grasp, greasy white synthetic flesh making bizarre hissing sounds. With a grunt of effort she threw it off of her, but one of it's long feet tangled in the unbroken section of walkway above as it leapt up. With a spin and a flash of red from it's single eye, the geth monstrosity launched itself at her again, this time slamming a metal studded knee into her stomach. She felt the armor plating across her torso snap, but she wrenched her arm around the thing's elbow and pulled, arching back to force it to pull away from her.

Wrex was shouting, blasts of shotgun fire peppered with high-pitched digital squealing echoing through the cavern. The disgusting thing on top of her smelled like wet and rotting cheese, mixed with old rust and grease. She kicked it away, rolling out from under the walkway and into the light, and brought up her shotgun, blasting it. It collapsed bonelessly , sprays of white fluid spattering over her armor, and she turned to face the cavern once more. The things were everywhere, leaping like frenzied locusts, spraying plasma darts from slender, ugly curved shapes in misshapen hands. Garrus fired, the explosive shell lashing out to lance into one of the geth's sides, detonating a moment later in a flash of blue-white energy and a jumble of smoking, burning geth body parts. But even as he did so two more ran along the ground, then along the wall, loping like deranged bloodhounds, glowing eye-lights leaving a trail of illumination as they pounced on him.

Shepard grimaced, taking aim with her shotgun, and fired. A geth thing folded in half at the waist from the force of the shot, and she fired again, gritting her teeth. The disturbingly fluid motion it made as it slumped to it's knees , holding it's shattered torso, looked far too much like a living creature for her comfort. Wrex grabbed one that was wrapped around his back with a meaty fist and hurled it with a roar, the thing flying in a tumbling arc to land heavily atop a crate. A series of snaps and the sound of something sizzling let Shepard know that one was dead, but Wrex was surrounded by three more. Shepard leapt up, pulling biotic energy to her, and lashed out with a pulse of negative gravity, sending the geth near Wrex sliding from their feet to float helplessly in the air. Rather than fire his gun, Wrex grunted, fist clenching as he pushed out his own biotic power, the two fields overlapping violently and shearing each other apart in a bubble of titanic force. The three geth were wrenched apart, one stretching to almost double it's length for a brief moment before snapping like a worn rubber band, one half slamming into the rock wall and splattering , the other careening off into the darkness at the end of the cavern, landing in a pile of crates that it crushed.

The other two geth, either less sturdy or more lucky, were just torn in half cleanly, bonelessly flopping to the walkway a moment later in a rain of white fluids. Wrex kicked a clammy geth hand off of his foot and crashed his heel into it's head, sending the eye-light into darkness. Garrus had dropped his rifle to pull out his pistol, shooting one of the foul, rubbery things at point blank range as it rounded the corner into the elevator car. It stumbled back, colliding with it's partner, and Garrus fired three more times, his hand hammering down on the ammo release to cycle it's chamber, the heavy buckshot tearing dozens of pale white furrows in the sickly false flesh. The first one collapsed, the second staggered back , twitching, and backed into Wrex's shotgun barrel. The flash of light a moment later sent the now burning geth flying across the railing to flip over it, and crash down onto the rock floor. Wrex wiped white fluid off his gun and face with a disgusted look, while Garrus fell back onto his haunches, scuttling away from the twitching, all too lifelike pile of synthetic flesh in front of him. "What the fuck was THAT?" Garrus voice was trembling with multiple tones, his eyes wide.

Sheppard crouched down in front of one of the bodies, poking it with her shotgun. The geth was built like it's more metallic counterparts, but only a few narrow metal rods at it's joints and hips, and the plating behind it's head and surrounding it's eye, betrayed it's synthetic origin. The arms, torso and legs were all built of the same dark white muscle-like material, which when she touched it molded sluggishly around her finger with a juicy, sickening squelch before reforming back to it's previous shape. "I have no idea, Garrus."

Wrex spat. "Goddamned disgusting is what they are. They smell horrible. Geth were bad enough when they were just machines, this is.. vile." Garrus slowly got to his feet. "Are these living beings they've ruined, or did they grow this stuff onto some kind of framework? What the spirits is going on here?"

Sheppard stood as well, and shook her head. She was about to reply when she heard a faint , almost exhausted voice, barely above a pained whisper.

"Goddess...please...is .. anyone there..."

Shepard caught the edge of the walkway and clambered up, and followed the faint sound, heading around the edge of the elevator to a narrow ramp leading down. She stopped, surprised by the vista in front of her. An asari was suspended and spreadeagled in a rippling field of azure, her once white uniform stuck to her slender form with sweat, long black pants clinging to her legs. A drawn face looked down at the commander with such broken desperation that even Shepard was taken aback. She took her helmet off , shaking her hair free, and couldn't help but smile.

_She's …. beautiful. _

The woman's lips were parted, as she panted , her eyes dull, her skin bright blue and somehow parched looking. Shepard could not help but notice her smell , like old bathwater and whiskey and something less pleasant. "Doctor T'soni?" The asari swallowed painfully, and her eyes met Shepard's.

For a long moment, neither looked away. For a moment, all that existed was two shattered people, unable to fit , never knowing how to react, unable to grasp the pain they kept being put through and into. For a moment Shepard saw something in Liara's eyes she could understand, something broken and raw and vital. For a moment Liara saw something in the human woman's eyes, pain never allowed to heal, wounds infected with pain and loss, a hand reaching out from filth and darkness for a touch of light...

"Uh, Commander?" Garrus' voice was even, but with a slight edge. "You okay?"

Shepard shook herself, frowning. "Yeah. Just...still shaken up by the geth." She cleared her throat. "You are Liara T'soni, yes? Doctor from the University of Serrice, here on a dig?" Liara nodded, her voice thin but somehow...sweet. "Yes. .. you... are real. You are real, yes? I have... been seeing things, I think."

Shepard nodded. "I..yes, I'm real. My name is Commander Shepard. I'm a Spectre. This is Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec, and Wrex. We're here to... get you out , I guess." Liara closed her eyes, shuddering. "Thank the Goddess... I did not think anyone would ever come looking for me." Her voice sped up, wavering , as she opened her eyes again, a trace of panic coming over her features. "Listen...this .. field, I am trapped in, is a Prothean stasis defense field of some kind. I cannot move while within it's confines, so I need you to find some way to get me out, alright? Please?"

Shepard nodded, but firmed her jaw. "And how did you end up in there?"

Liara swallowed, wincing, her wide blue eyes guileless and desperate. "I.. I was packing my belongings to leave, the University... fired me and I was told to meet someone from my mother's followers to take me back home. I was .. lost in thought, examining this ruin one last time when a krogan and geth appeared. Geth! I saw the footage of Eden Prime but... " She shivered, despite, the head, and continued, her voice almost cracking. "I..I panicked. I knew this passage way acted as a barrier , and I thought I could protect myself by activating it. But something went...wrong, and it trapped me instead." She bit her lip. "And now I'm trapped in here. You must get me out!"

Garrus flicked a mandible. "Your mother is working with Saren, Doctor. She's responsible for the atrocities on Eden Prime. Whose side are you on?" The turian's voice was hard, suspicious. Liara looked shocked, lips trembling. She stammered. "I – I am not on anyone's side! I may be Benezia's daughter, but I am nothing like her! She hates everything I am. I have not even spoken to her in person in years! I -"

Shepard held up a hand. "Calm down, Doctor. We'll get this all sorted out. "She was surprised to hear herself speaking in a soothing voice, and cleared her throat. "We just need to figure out a way past this energy field." Liara minimally shook her head. "The thug that claimed they worked for my mother was trying to bring it down, but he and the geth had no luck. They planned to use something from what they called a .. Colossus? To shatter the field...but I have my doubts. Prothean energy fields tend to implode when collapsed forcefully." She paused, then continued. "The controls are behind me, if you can find a way past the barrier field, you can shut it off safely. Please help me."

Wrex grunted. "Well, we can't use their idea anyway, the stupid geth machine is a pancake now. It's too bad we can't just blast our way through." Shepard thought for a moment, then smiled. "I may have an idea. Just be calm, Doctor. We'll get you out of there before you know it. "

"S-shepard. Be... careful. There is a krogan here, with the geth. They have been trying to find ways past the barrier, and I think he is a biotic."

Wrex stiffened. "Another krogan with the soulgrip? I'm starting to get tired of krogan stupid enough to work for Saren. For a battlemaster to do so is .. troubling. And infuriating." The krogan's voice was dark and thick with anger.

Shepard exhaled. "Garrus, cover the elevator. Wrex, come with me." Shepard walked around the broken walkway to the cavern floor proper, stepping over the shattered bodies of the geth hopping things that still littered the floor. She glanced around the campsite that had been set up beyond it, then turned her attention to the mining laser.

Wrex grunted. "I like how you think, human, but I doubt blasting the field would work. Or the wall." Shepard grinned. "No doubt. Help me get this focuser back on the breech." Wrex grunted as he lifted the heavy crystal, the two of them carefully sliding it back onto the business end of the laser. "I noticed as we came down that there were lots of other oval tunnels like the one Doctor T'soni is in. None of them have this field. All we have to do is blast through the rock below it. There's some kind of elevator shaft beyond that..." She pulled up the laser's menu, grinning wider as the system booted up. "Still got power. Now..." Using the cross-shaped targeting pad, she carefully aligned the laser's grid to the heavy jumble of rocks below, and dialed in the power to cut through 10 feet of rock. With a touch of the firing stud, the laser sent out a blinding purple-blue beam of energy, melting through the granite stones like butter. A moment later the laser cut out, leaving a wide smoking trench in the ground, leading to in irregularly melted hole in the wall that gave way to smooth, white floor.

"Tada. Better living through firepower. Let's move." Shepard and Wrex walked over to the still cooling hole in the floor, and Shepard called up to Garrus. "Down here. We have a way in." A moment later, Garrus came scrabbling down the rocks, hissing in alarm as he jerked away from still glowing hot rock near the edge of the hole. "Well, that works, if a bit sloppy." Shepard turned on her shotgun's light and entered first, ducking her head under the still warm rock, then straightening as she entered the tunnel. This one was coated in dust, a console like the one next to T'soni above dark and still. The corridor went on for about 30 feet, before ending in a circular landing with a hole in the middle. A slender podium was at the edge of the hole, faintly glowing green images above it. Garrus gave a sort of whistling noise. "50,000 years and the power is still on. Talk about over engineering. "

Shepard walked up to the device, and Wrex frowned. "Buncha squiggling gibberish. How you plan to work this?" Shepard frowned at Wrex. "I... " Without knowing why , her fingers tapped two of the holographic buttons, and there was a hard, grinding sound. A moment later, a circular platform descended from above, coming to a smooth stop even with the floor they were on, and the panel chimed. "How did I know to do that?"

Garrus gave her a worried look. "Maybe the Beacon did more than give you bad dreams, Sheep-master." Shepard rolled her eyes. "Let's go. If I'm crazy, at least it's useful crazy... .I hope." She touched another control, and the elevator smoothly lifted. It ascended slowly but evenly, a few seconds later stopping on the floor with the asari. Blue radiance filled the corridor ahead, but the control panel was a few feet outside of the effect.

Liara's form was facing away from them, and Shepard shook her head as she caught herself eying the asari's behind. _Jesus, I'm as bad as a man. What the hell is wrong with me?_

Shepard stepped forward, and Liara gave a little movement with her head. "H-hello?" Shepard spoke, making sure her voice was calm. "It's just us, Doctor. We'll get you down from that .. thing." Shepard walked over to the control panel, examining it minutely. Liara tried to turn her head, but couldn't. "How...did you get past the field?" Shepard was still absorbed in the green-glowing display in front of her. "Mining laser. Cut a hole in the floor to the next level down where the field wasn't turned on." Shepard bit her lip. Garrus stepped up. "How do we cut this off, Doctor?"

Liara sagged, her voice dropping in defeat. "I.. don't know. There must be some way to do so, but the machine was … malfunctioning. After all, I wanted a protective barrier, just for it to do this. Any advice I could give you might be wrong."

Shepard hesitantly tapped a control in the right hand corner, and there was a heavy rumble from somewhere below. A moment later, Liara collapsed to the deck, her head hitting her knapsack on the floor. "Oh... you .. you did it. How did you know which controls to activate?" Shepard helped her up, as gentle as possible,pulling her to her feet, leaving them face to face, barely inches apart. A long moment paused, and Shepard stepped back, exhaling, and pulling a bottle of water from the emergency supply pack on her thigh. "Long story. Here, Doctor. You must be dying of thirst."

Liara's eyes lit up as she took the bottle with trembling hands, shaking like a leaf as she slowly and carefully drained it, tipping her head back. Shepard found herself watching the movement of her slender throat as she swallowed, and turned to Garrus to break the image. "We clear?" Garrus shrugged. "So far. I can't hear anything. If there's any more of those geth.. hoppers...around, they're being sneaky. Gah." The turian gave a twist of his head and rolled his shoulders as if shaking off a bad memory.

Shepard turned back to Liara. "Alright, doctor. You a little better now? Can you walk, at least? How long have you been trapped in that thing , anyway?"

Liara shook her head wearily, eyes focused solely on Shepard. "I.. two days? I think? Things began to blur towards the last few hours. I.. I think I can make it out of here, the water... helped." She exhaled shakily."I.. I owe you my life, Commander. Whatever I can do to repay you, it is not enough. What would you have me do?" Shepard looked at her feet, shifting under the intense gaze. "That depends on you, Doctor. Your mother is definitely tied up in horrible activities. The Citadel Council has a lot of questions it needs answered, both about what she's up to and the geth, and right now, you are our only lead."

Liara frowned. Shepard noticed she had eyebrow-like markings above each eye, and freckles dusting across her cheeks. _Just like a human. Except she's blue. And beautiful. And I am staring again. _A moment later, Liara looked away, her voice tentative. "Lead? I do not know what my mother is planning, or what she would have to do with geth. I am just a researcher of Prothean extinction, I am not even well versed in the more technical aspects of their culture!"

Shepard held up a hand, and forced a smile. "Calm down. No one is going to arrest you or anything silly like that. We'll .. figure out what's going on later. Frankly, if your mother's idea of a welcome home party is to send geth after you, you're better off with us. Let's get out of here." Liara pointed to the elevator. "We – that is, the research team that was once here... figured out how to use the Prothean elevator long ago, Commander. It is much faster and safer than the mining elevator, and it leads to the top of the volcano, which is fairly broad and flat. We stopped using the mining elevator months ago, I am astonished it still functions at all." Wrex shrugged. "The quicker we are out of here, the less like more geth are to show up. And that damned elevator was on it's last legs, anyway."

Shepard nodded, and put her mirror-faced helm back on. "Get us to the top, then, Doctor. " Liara gave a weak smile, and picked up her knapsack , walking towards the controls. "Please, call me Liara, Commander. I .. I fear my doctorate is of little use to me except in isolating me in out of the way digs." Wrex and Garrus stood stock still as Liara worked the controls. With a smooth lurch, the elevator began to rise, at a very rapid clip. More corridors radiated off the central hub in all directions, most blocked by debris , crates, or darkness. Shepard looked up, as a broad ring of metal scythed open to reveal sunlight and the harsh pale red sky outside. "Yeah, this is a hell of a lot faster than that rickety piece of crap we rode down on." The elevator came to a halt, the top of the mountain inset with a smooth white square of stone surrounding the opening that allowed the elevator through. The four stepped off of the elevator, which immediately sank back below the hatch cover, sliding out of sight a few seconds later. They were about 800 feet above the dig site now, the wreckage of the Colossus a tiny asterisk of twisted metal and smoke , the buildings spread out around the distant tunnel mouth.

Shepard was so relieved to be out of the cramped, hot Prothean ruin that the voice from behind her took her completely by surprise. "Hah. Well, geth, you were right, this IS an elevator shaft."

Shepard whipped around, shotgun leveled, only to face the blazing blue orb of a geth armature, towering some 12 feet above them, wide-set legs gripping the rock of the mountain face beneath it securely. Leaned cockily against the foremost leg, one hand gripping a vicious looking shotgun, was a yellow-skinned krogan in bulky black armor. Red glowing tubing trimmed the armor , while his head plate was smooth and unscarred. The krogan jutted his chin out, displaying his teeth in a challenge. "Some old doddering wreck you dug up and a mincing little turian won't stop a big geth walking cannon, human. Give up the doctor and I'll make this quick and painless."

Shepard snorted. "Fuck. You."

She moved, pushing Liara out of the line of fire and immediately calling upon her biotics. She heard Garrus yell as he rolled backwards, the hiss-clank of his sniper rifle as he unfolded it echoing across the mountain top. With a yell she hurled a shockwave at the krogan thug –

Who with an almost negligent backhand motion, stopped it cold, biotic forces tearing at each other fruitlessly before wavering away. "Pathetic. I thought you were supposed to be some kinda monkey badass. Geth, kill these pyjacks."

Both Wrex and Garrus fired at the same moment, shotgun and anti-material rifle blazing in a unified boom, one punching a wide hole in the geth machine's chest, the other digging a long gouge across the transparent surface of the geth's eye. But the armature was far too large to be disabled, and the pulse that radiated out in fire lashed across the three of them with a snapping boom. Shepard felt herself land heavily, paint sizzling, shields totally fried. Her armor trilled alarms as she tried to move, feeling something broken shift in the leg she had hurt on Eden Prime. Her eyes took in the sight of Wrex, laying on the cold white stone at the edge of the elevator shaft, unmoving, cold blue plasma fires dotting his armor and smoke rising from his form.

_Get...up..._

Shepard spat blood inside her helmet and staggered to her feet, calling upon her biotics. A second flare of light slammed into her just as she got a barrier up, snapping it and sending her skidding backwards again, this time landing on her stomach, her shotgun skidding out of her weakened grasp. She felt blood running from a cut on her collarbone, trickling down her neck. The armature stomped forward, spike-tipped legs digging into the rock as it approached, casting faint shadows even in the noonday sun from the blazing death it's eye promised.

"Get away from her you THING!"

Shepard felt, rather than saw, something like a giant tidal wave wash over her, strong enough to send wind gusting past. A literal biotic meteor slammed into the geth with enough force that three of it's legs snapped instantly, shards of metal and armor plating flying off with popping, crumpling noises. The armature crashed to the ground, it's head slamming into the astonished krogan with enough force to pulp his body, reducing it gory red-orange paste that vented in a cone shape across the mountain top and far out into the air.

As Shepard watched, the geth machine trembled and tried to rise, only for a blue radiance to enfold it. "You will not hurt her, or anything else ever _again!" _The armature lifted, jerked aloft as if by the hand of an angry god, legs jerking helplessly, then slammed into the hatch covering the elevator. The head snapped off like a child's toy, skittering across the ground to come to a stop a few feet away, the light fading from it's orb slowly. A sob, and blue light exploded outwards again. The machine was hurled down the mountain side, legs and bits of it's body being shorn away as it rolled irregularly to crash to a sudden halt against a massive boulder some 50 feet down.

With a groan, Shepard managed to sit up. Liara T'soni was on one knee, her lips drawn back in a grimace of hate, blue fires still illuminating her form, heaving with exertion. Her eyes were blazing pools of blue, full of frustration, fear, and savage emotion. Her shoulders moved up and down, her breathing erratic, and she glanced over at Shepard a long moment. "I … am … not … feeling so .. good."

With a flutter of eyelids, the little asari collapsed to the ground. Shepard merely watched her, feeling so tired. "J...Joker. Come in..."

"We...could...use a pick up..."


	36. Chapter 30 : Pressley

A/N: _There's a couple of fluffy chapters ahead , and I know some people only read for the mission chapters, and the fight scenes. But there was such a paucity of __**depth**__ to the way Shepard was characterized, that I need to explore it. The story makes us feel as if all of these people have these deep, bindinging connections – but we so rarely get to see it. _

_I'm sure that's why fan fiction is so satisfying, because it lets us all fill in the holes. But I'm not good with drabbles and one-shots, there's so many pieces that fall outside the scope that I feel as if mine are just chapters torn from the story they belong in. _

_The relationship between the Normandy Six and Shepard is a vital part of what moved her to become more human, rather than a bloodthirsty she-wolf that giggled at pulling some poor bastard's heart out from behind. Tali ends up like a little sister, Garrus a brother. Wrex is more complex, as he's part and parcel of her guilt in Torfan, but ends up almost absolving her. Alenko acts as a sounding board, a way to explore expectation. Liara becomes her soul, almost in the way Benezia is Saren's. _

_Williams, though, is someone Shepard sees as having great potential blunted by her own self-image. Williams instinctively gets Shepard to respond emotional, even when she doesn't know what or how to do so. I wanted to illustrate a bit of that, and give a hint of just how bad my version of Torfan is.I've debated writing up the full thing about Torfan, but I tried and it actually made me sick, so I may hold off on that. _

* * *

January 26th , 2183 10:30 AM

Shepard awoke slowly, feeling very tired, but also very secure, as if someone held her carefully. She blinked away the blurry lights in the overhead and tried to sit up, only to discover her arms and legs wouldn't respond. An acceleration of small beeping noises from the foot of her bed rang out, and a moment later the elegant form of Dr. Chakwas stood next to her, a smile on her face. "Good to see you back among the awake, Commander."

Shepard groaned, leaning her head back. "How long have I been out, and why I can't I seem to move? And what happened?"

Chakwas gave a slight, amused chuckle. Her labcoat was wrinkled, and her hair looked somewhat limp and frazzled. There were a few blood spots on the hem of her coat, some red, others blue. "Over 7 hours. You can't move because there's a medical mass effect field holding you in place. We've had the nerve regenerators and bone bio-unit working on you since they hauled you back in. That blast you took from the geth war machine very nearly killed you, Commander."

Chakwas picked up a datapad and began scrolling through it. "You broke your left collarbone, your right leg – two breaks, both internal – six ribs, and you had stress fractures in your left tibia. You also had several slugs penetrate your armor at some point, not to mention a heavy concussion from being slammed around, and some light first-degree burns from where your armor failed."

Chakwas coughed. "Wrex was very severely hurt, but with an hour of rest and eating a truly amazing heap of chicken and something …. meaty, his regeneration has taken care of most of it. Detective Vakarian got launched completely off the platform and landed badly on his right arm, splintering some plates that had to be rebound. He also had some sub-dermal burning from heat-transfer from that hit, and one of the tips of his fringe shattered, which I was able to repair. He's resting in the hangar bay."

Shepard nodded. "And the..doctor? Liara T'Soni?"

Chakwas nodded. "Aside from being extremely dehydrated and malnourished , there wasn't that much wrong with her, except that last stunt of hers that saved your life nearly gave her an embolism. Asari are natural biotics, but most of them use a neural signal amplifier. It's not like a human or krogan amp, it isn't surgical, but it's very useful. She didn't have hers, but she hurled enough biotic energy to almost cook herself alive, the poor thing." Shepard frowned. "She going to be okay?" Chakwas shrugged, glancing at her datapad. "In the short term, she's fine. But overdoing it with biotics is .. dangerous for asari physiology, from what I've been studying. I see no evidence of anything yet, but even a single incident like this one could lead to any number of issues, brain damage, nerve problems, even sterility. " Shepard paled, but Chakwas was still looking at the datapad. "In any event, she does not seem to be in any immediate medical danger. I'm concerned about her mental health, however."

_Fuck! Sterility. To save my worthless ass? And now I have to talk to her?_

Shepard sighed. "Doc..you are aware that I'm not the most .. capable when it comes to things of that nature, right? I understand she's not doing well, but , fuck , anyone would be better at talking to her about it than me."

Chakwas gave the commander a long, almost weary look. "Commander, I know you feel awkward around other people. It's clear that you sometimes miss the queues that other people pick up on instinctively. But there's good reason for that, given your upbringing. But not dealing with people won't make that better. You are now the CO. Like it or not, you have to be capable and willing to engage people in the space service. We don't have the luxury of a psychologist here, and we can't just put people on 96 hours leave to sort out their issues."

She frowned, and continued. "And in this case, I think Doctor T'soni will continue to evade talking about how she feels, or what this has done to her, unless she's forced to. And you're the only person who can make that happen. She can protest she's fine, but you are going to have to decide how this plays out once she's fully recovered."

Shepard arches an eyebrow. "How so?"

Chakwas gave a wave of her hand, as if gesturing to the entire medbay. "I have to make assessments of mental health, even that of aliens. Doctor T'soni has demonstrated a mix of nervousness, depression, and despair since she awoke. Right now, she's in the research lab." Chakwas indicated the door in the forward part of the medical bay. "It's quiet, and I figure that if she has lingering medical issues, it's close by. But at some point you're going to have to haul the poor girl in front of the Council and have them interrogate her, and right now .. I don't think she's up to that. You will have to decide when that happens, and how. And you can't do that if you don't talk to her."

Shepard shrugged. "Deciding _if _she needs to talk to the Council is not my call. . . but , seeing as how she saved my life, I'm more inclined to cut her some slack. If she needs time to recover, she can do so here, and the Council can interrogate her just as well via tight-beam hologram as they can having her stand on that god-awful fucking pier while they gloat."

The human doctor nodded. "For someone who is supposed to be cold , Commander, there are times you seem quite lenient."

Shepard closed her eyes. "I don't do what I do for the sake of being some kind of..renegade badass. I don't like making hard calls, but when it happens, there's no point crying over it. Hesitating or showing emotion won't make it any better. That being said, Doctor...when someone is telling me something, and they know more about it than I do, I at least try to listen. And there's no point making a young woman who just lost her mother get into a confrontation with that Sparatus jackass if I don't have to. I never got why Udina didn't like the bastard until I met him."

Chakwas put down the pad, and walked to the end of Shepard's bed. "Well, your own injuries aren't exactly healed up the way I'd like yet, but I can at least have you sit up and able to talk. Both Pressley and Kaiden have been checking in on you every hour, I gather they have some kind of reports or decisions to make." Shepard's bed slowly elevated her to a reclined sitting position,and she could move her right arm. "How much longer am I going to be in this contraption, Doctor?" Chakwas smiled. "At least another 6 hours. That's if you don't move too much. I'll send in Pressley."

A few minutes later, the door to the dimmed medical bay opened, and Pressley walked . He saluted, sharply. "Ma'am? How's the leg? Doctor Chakwas indicated you were mostly healed, but..." The big man stood at attention, his uniform perfect as always, his left hand holding a datapad.

Shepard nodded coolly. "I'll need you to keep things going for a while longer, XO. Status report." Pressley nodded, and started going over his datapad, which she could see was full of notes. _Efficient and doesn't demand touchy-feely speeches or all that crap. Good XO for someone like me._

"Ma'am, we took some minor damage on the lower armor banks from geth ground to space missiles. Nothing serious, but we do need to get armor plates 440 and 441 replaced, and segments 439 and 442 repaired. All members of the marine ground unit are onboard. No casualties, ma'am." Pressley gestured to the far end of the medbay, where two soldiers slept in medical sedation. "Corporal Smith and Sergeant Patterson have fairly severe wounds and will be on LALD for several days while they recover. Lieutenant Alenko was released about an hour ago, his leg wound is not too bad. All other marine force members have a full recovery."

She nodded, and Pressley continued. "Per standing regs, I did a complete scan sweep of the surrounding area after your recovery. We flagged geth wreckage, at least as much as we could, for recovery teams. We got a comms request from Alliance Command about two hours ago, but it wasn't flagged as urgent. We are currently on course for Trintara, the location of the volus distress call. It's going to be a long flight, 6 mainline jumps and then a lengthy FTL burn." Pressley turned the datapad so she could see his proposed course, and after doing a bit of math in her head, she nodded.

"Very good, Pressley. Commendable work, and I appreciate you stepping in for me."

The balding lieutenant commander glanced down for a moment, shrugging his broad shoulders. "I.. I do have a few concerns ma'am. I know you are recovering from ground-side injuries..."

Shepard looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You're as professional and to the point as I am. If you're raising concerns, then they're important to me. Let's hear it."

Inhaling, Pressley nodded. "First, the aliens on board the ship,Commander. I wouldn't like to think of myself as... _racist ..._and I understand the Normandy was built with turian assistance and that the aliens helped us out. But that doesn't change the fact that we don't really know very much about them, ma'am. They may not be with Saren, but that doesn't mean they don't have their own agenda., especially the krogan and the turian."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Not worried about the quarian?"

Pressley shrugged. "She's a kid, and a smart one. Adams is singing her praises, and she helped figure out a way to flash-dump almost another 200 degrees of heat from the forward baffles. No, I'm not worried about her. But the krogan is openly the agent and assassin for the Shadow Broker. Hs'e a mercenary, and we don't know what the Broker's real interest in this mission is."

Shepard shrugged. "I met him in battle before, Pressley. Krogan are very straightforward."

Pressley raised a hand. "I'm not trying to doubt your experience ma'am, but that is exactly my concern. If the Broker changes his mind, or gets it in his head to pull anything on us, the krogan will just follow orders. I know he spends most of his time in the cargo hold and on the mess desks, but I would frankly feel a little better if we kept all the aliens off the CIC – not much reason for them to be near the critical systems. Or the stealth systems. That kind of tech might be just the thing the Broker would want to sell to someone else."

Shepard tilted her head. "And Garrus? What's the concern there?"

Pressley shrugged. "He's a turian, ma'am, and I _am_ probably biased there. I just don't have a lot of trust for the situation. It was bizarre enough when we had a turian Spectre on board for what was supposed to be a simple shakedown run. But Special Ops C-Sec Detectives are almost as dangerous. I have an old .. associate of mine. Names Harkin. He used to be pretty sharp, but as age caught up with him he started drinking, and that led him to bad places. Harkin says Garrus is a very loose cannon who's risked the lives of innocent civilians just to down a criminal, and he almost blew up a transport to try to stop one criminal. "

Shepard used her right hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Alright, that sounds a .. bit extreme. And you think..what?"

Pressley shrugged again, his face troubled. "I'm not sure, Commander. I'm no alien psychologist. I worry that he's in charge of two very critical components of our mission, the forward battery and the M-35 Mako. It's probably unfounded suspicion. But he sounds like a risk taker, and ..." Shepard thought about how to react to Pressley's concerns, then decided to just be herself. "Fuck , Pressley, I have no clue what to think. _I'm _a risk taker, when you get right down to it. Wrex and Garrus did a better job on that little jaunt we just had in the tunnels than many Marines I've worked with, and they nearly got killed doing so. That warrants some slack. On the other hand... keep an eye on them. And I want to know if either of them wander up on the CIC... just to see why they would do so."

Pressley nodded. "Thank you, Commander. I .. I know I'm not the most flexible of people."Shepard gave him a look. "And I'm the paragon of level-headed calm?" Presley gave a smile at that, then his smile turned into a softer, more open expression. "Ma'am, I can only say what I've seen since you've been on board is a good XO and a good CO. Anyone trained by Captain Anderson has to be the best of the best."

Shepard's face lost it's amusement at the captain's name. "Yeah. I just wish he were here" She paused, and glanced back at Pressley. "No concerns about the asari? She is alien, too, and the daughter of someone we're tracking down."

Pressley shook his head. "Maybe so, but... we all saw her damn near kill herself to save your life. She was bleeding from the nose and mouth when we got her on board, and from what I gather it was somewhat touch and go for a while. I don't know very much about biotics, but Lieutenant Alenko said that was a very powerful display of strength, especially from someone who was without food or water or rest for a couple of days."

Shepard snorted. "Powerful, hell. Taking out a Geth Prime almost blew me up, I can't even imagine how much one of those walker-things must weigh. She's going to be useful, if she can use biotics on that level." _And, hey, let's admit it.. I wish I could suplex a fucking geth … walker ...thing. _

Pressley nodded. "My only other concern, really, is the damage we took to the under armor. Like I said, it's mostly superficial...but those were just ground units with shoulder mounted missiles. The ship is fast, it's nimble, it's very heavily armed and has strong barriers, but if we get in a serious scrap, I'm afraid the tradeoff is she has very little endurance. Damage control is almost non-existent, and we don't have a lot of redundant systems." Shepard winced. "It's a prototype, and I suspect they had to gut the armor to fit the stealth system in. That's a real problem going into the situations we are facing. Any real options?" Pressley shrugged. "Adams wants to boost the barrier strength by rerouting power from the secondary drive power network, and Joker feels we should install additional mass reaction jets to improve handling. Bottom line, though, they both agree a couple of good direct hits – or just about ANYTHING from that black monster ship we saw on Eden Prime – would tear us in half. "

Shepard considered this for a long moment. "Noted, but there's nothing to be done about it right now. Write it up, we'll send it back to Alliance brass and see if the eggheads at Engineering Command have any useful ideas. Anything else?"

Pressley shook his head. "Not at this time, ma'am. I'll go ahead with the noon watch change started." He checked the pad in his hands, and tapped something on it, bringing up notes. "Our current ETA to Trintara is about 2 days, Commander." "Very well, XO. Dismissed." Shepard watched him leave the medbay, her thoughts swirling around what to do next. The silence of the medical bay was comforting, reminding her of other times she had nearly died achieving some goal. _Dirth, shot through the lung. Vansha, hit in the arm, right knee, two in the gut. Terra Nova, damn near burned to death. _With her working hand, she rubbed at her eyes, feeling grit and bone-deep tiredness in them.

The door opened with it's usual noises. Shepard glanced up, expecting Alenko with a report on the ground force, but arched an eyebrow as Williams walked through it, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail instead of a combat-ready bun for once. "You're awake, Skipper? The doc said you'd make it through okay, but we were pretty worried... "

Shepard grunted. "For certain values of 'okay', Williams. You have something to report?"

Williams hesitated, then abruptly sat down in Chakwas's chair in front of her desk, facing Shepard , hands folded together. "Not really, ma'am. Kaiden is asleep, he was going to give you the rundown on what we found after we picked you up, bu t it really isn't that important. I just.. I mean, I figured you could use the company, being stuck in traction and all."

Shepard gave the younger woman a cool glance, face expressionless. "I'm not sure that I make good … company, Chief. I tend to focus on getting things done, not reflecting on them."

Williams shrugged. "Maybe, but … I mean, I know you heard us talking in the mess a couple of days ago...and I just wanted to say that we just were talking about Torfan -"

Shepard held up her hand. "Chief, I have a rule. It's a pretty simple rule, really. It's about the only one I have. Don't talk. About. Torfan. " Shepard paused, closing her eyes as is if in pain. "Please."

Williams was quiet for several seconds, the only sounds the faint beep of bio-monitors and air cycling through vents. "I .. I've never had a commander who gave two shits about me. I'm a Williams. I'm sure you...have read my record. Know who my grandfather was. General Williams, the Traitor of Shanxi. It's been something I have to carry 'round all the time. Pushing myself to excel." Williams voice dropped, almost to a whisper. "Knowing deep down inside things will not improve."

Shepard tilted her head, looking at the soldier, and Williams gave a tiny smile.

"_Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd. I strove against the stream and all in vain. _" Williams exhaled sharply after reciting, placing her palms on her knees and leaning forward. "Anyway, Skipper, I'm .. not good at knowing what to do with myself when someone isn't holding something like my family history over my head. I .. I just wanted to say that I understand what it's like to be judged by something you regret."

Shepard's expression was still blank, the dark eyes cool. "Chief...I judge soldiers by how they fight, by how much fire they bring to the battlefield, by how far I can trust them to go. I don't have the time or concern to give a shit about political crap or military dick-waving contests by men who need to convince themselves they're some kind of ultimate badass." Shepard paused, then continued. "Most people go through life lying to themselves, trying to convince themselves they are a certain kind of person. I don't care, and it's not something I get."

Shepard scratched her head. "That being said, Chief...there's a big difference between being ostracized over Torfan and being illogically cashiered because your grandfather was brave enough to make the hard call. Trust me, I have had to make the call between victory at any cost and saving the lives of my men many, many times."

Williams gave Shepard a hard, almost angry look. "And you didn't mess it up, you didn't back down when you could have fought-"

Shepard shook her head, interrupting by raising her hand. "Williams, I never had civilian casualties on that kind of scale to think about. All there was to consider was the objective, and I had to get to it, and if the only way I could do that was to sacrifice a platoon, or lose 3 platoons trying to do it a different way, I'd lose the platoon. Somehow, I'm considered … bad … for being honest with myself, for dealing with the issues the best I can, for not pretending to regret having to make the hard call. I refuse not to take responsibility for my actions, but that doesn't help."

Shepard looked away, at the metal wall, taking in the little cabinets Chakwas sorted various medical gear in. "It's easy for some space-side clown, who has never had to lead men, or face their goddamned families when they die for you, that I go too far. It's easy for some order-spewing, decorated old fuck to imply that it could have been "done another way" when they don't want to get you the equipment you need to actually get it done at all. But sometimes, when you are facing a superior force, and they're going to kill everyone in your unit unless you figure out how to get the jump on them? You do what you have to. If soldiers die because of that, well...that's what Marines do. We die hard, fighting, and as Marines."

Shepard turned her gaze back to Williams, dark eyes narrowed. "But at the end of the fucking day, I put on this uniform to protect those who were too weak to protect themselves. I put it on to kill people like I used to be, to make up for what I did. I put it on to protect people who were normal, who deserved better than me, who weren't a net fucking loss to humanity. And so did your grandfather. And when he chose to surrender, rather than watch the fucking turians kill tens of thousands of innocent people just to get at his force.. he did the only thing he could. He knew what it would cost him just like I knew what it would cost me."

Williams gaze was listless, fixed on the floor. "They said ..the surrender...was dishonorable. What he did. I have to.. redeem our name-"

Shepard felt her blood boil, the old familiar anger rushing into her veins, but her voice was icy. Her whole body started to tremble, her face twisted into a snarl. "Honor? _Fuck_ honor. What is honor? Was it honor that got the 2RRU blown to hell on fucking Torfan? I had to shoot unarmed batarians on Torfan. There were non-combatants there. Women." Shepard closed her eyes. "Children. The motherfucking four-eyed bastards used them as bait, knowing Alliance forces would try to avoid firing on them. They had them strapped with bombs. Babies. They prodded them forward at gunpoint , to charge us. Beeping. Crying."

Williams eyes were pools of horror, but Shepard continued, in that same cold voice. "We had to shoot our way through crying mothers, while the slavers shot my men to death. We had to shoot children in the head, so they didn't blow our goddamned unit up entirely. I had to sacrifice half the unit to draw off the main force, so I could get to the leaders so they wouldn't be able to remotely detonate any more fucking bombs. And we _died_, like goddamned rain falling out of the sky. And then the batarian pirate fucks wanted to surrender, to be let _go_. At the end of that fucking mess, the men wanted to roast the batarians alive, Williams." Her voice had become pained, close to wavering.

Shepard gave a shuddering inhalation. "But the Alliance never mentions, that, do they? Course not. That might lead to questions. The Alliance sold us out. They **let** the fuckers know we were coming, so they'd all be in one place. Wanted my unit to get chewed to pieces and killed, to convince the Senate to authorize a bigger fleet. To convince the ever-fucking Council to let us take the the fight to the batarians. So they gave us nothing. No goddamned air support. No reinforcements. Nothing. Just a few dozen N7's and a bunch of stupid line animals sent out to die."

Shepard exhaled. "And when, despite everything, we won? When I did what I had to? They draped the fucking Star of Terra around my criminal, child murdering neck and talked about honor, and sacrifice, and heroism. But it's all bullshit. Honor is a word people who never have to pull the trigger use to justify getting someone else's children killed, for reasons that are never worth that. But do you think I _regret_ it? Fuck no. I shot those evil fucking pirates dead because they were evil. I'd kill them a thousand times and it wouldn't be enough. I shot women and children because if I didn't then there'd be two dead people rather than one. The pirates pulled that fucking trigger, not me. And Torfan was the day my last faith in my own people died. When I realized some of them weren't actually any better than me. That we're all fucking monsters."

Williams opened her mouth , but no words came out. Shepard glared at her for a long , angry moment. "I don't have time... or the inclination … to feel sorry for you, or anyone else. I can't even feel sorry for _myself_. And I certainly don't want anyone feeling fucking sorry for me. Your grandfather wasn't the fuckup. The people who sidelined a good soldier because of what her grandfather did were. If you want to feel like he did the wrong thing, like you have to 'make up for something' or goddamned redeem yourself, you're a fool. Redemption is for when you've done something wrong, Williams. Like selling red sand to kids, murdering gang-bangers just for being on your surf, stealing medical supplies from the poor to sell for heroin, killing people for 50 credits or to prove you're hard."

Shepard exhales, and closed her eyes. "But I was a monster before I wore this uniform. I tried to change what I am. Humans may well be monsters, but at least your goddamned grandfather had the guts to make wearing that uniform _mean _something, unlike the fucks who are responsible for Torfan. And if you're wearing it, that's why you should be doing to. To make it _mean _something. That's what I fight for. To make sure no other little girls end up like _me._"

The medical bay was quiet again, for long, tense seconds. Finally Williams spoke, hands curling into fists. "All I know is that I... I've been a soldier all my life. That's all I wanted. To wear Alliance blue. To be able to say "these colors don't run." To know I was defending the people that mattered. I never got a chance to, always shuffled off to the end-zones, out of the way colonies, garrison duty. And when it finally happens, when I'm on Eden Prime and it's time to die defending innocent colonists, I'm... powerless. Terrified. Running for my life. Whimpering in fear."

Shepard's voice is flat, cold. "As opposed to what, exactly, Chief? You think you failed or something? You think you should have died? That you should have stood tall, like that idiot Jenkins, and got your head ventilated?" Shepard shook her head, sneering. "You were outnumbered 4 to 1, facing down an enemy that was faster , stronger, and had the drop on you. Your CO was a criminally incompetent fuck who set a defensive position in the middle of a fire-lane with no cover, and he died like the stupid fool he was. Your battalion commander was farting around 500 miles away while your units came apart under fire, but you survived that, you even got back into the fight. I already told you: you're one of the best soldiers I've seen, and I don't have the time or inclination to patronize or bullshit people."

Shepard jerked her thumb backwards, towards the research lab. "There's a girl back there who just found out her mother tried to have her killed, after learning that same mother has joined up with a mass-murdering lunatic. There's a turian who just threw away his entire career for a _chance_ at stopping Saren, because he's so pissed at the betrayal he can't think to do anything else. There's a fucking quarian _kid _who watched a friend get his head blown off just to get the data we needed here, and who's coming along out of some kind of fucked up species guilt. I don't care about anything in your past, or who your family was, or anything, Williams, except your ability to shoot that fucking gun like you stole it. You say you wear those blues to defend innocent people? Goddamn it, what the fuck else are we doing if not that? That stupid pointy-faced fuck is going to kill the _galaxy_, Chief. Next to that, what some fuck with four stripes and as much ground combat time as a volus thinks of you OR your family history should be a goddamned non-issue."

Williams stood, saluting. "Yes, ma'am. Permission to depart, ma'am."

Shepard glanced away. "Denied. Sit your ass back in that chair."

Williams looked angry, hurt, confused, defiant... and sat. Shepard actually gave a small smile. "I think... I know what you meant to say Chief. You've been treated like crap through your career, and you think I fell the same for being the Butcher, that I don't talk much because I am …" Shepard gives a little huff of air. ".. vilified."

Williams frowned "And you don't feel that way? I .. look. Nobody gets you. Nobody understands...why you do this. It's hard for us to know what's going to happen on this .. .quest .. we're on when we don't know .. what to expect."

Shepard's smile edged into bitterness. "Translation: nobody knows if I'll sacrifice them to get the mission completed? Fuck yes, I would. You, Alenko, Joker, the aliens, the whole goddamned ship. But I wouldn't expect to survive it. I'd be right there in the middle of it, dying, if I did that." Shepard fixed her gaze on Williams, hard grey-blue meeting soft and wary brown. "There are too many soldiers out there with .. damage to the soul. They only see numbers and success or failure, the losses in soldiers no more important than numbers on a datapad. Human robots, emotionally crippled. But they sacrifice their men without leading them. I've never, ever done that. And I never will."

Williams nodded, and Shepard gave a small, twisted smile. "I do this because I'm the best, Chief. At killing. At doing the impossible. At tasks that would reduce most people to a small puddle on the ground. I have survived shit that would turn you green. " Shepard's expression twists, the smile becoming something like a grimace. "But I grew up with drug-addled parents who sold me off as a kid to a sex slavery ring. I got free of that by turning into a vicious killer. The gangs kept me hopped up on so much coke, red sand and heroin that there's whole months I can't even recall. I never, ever had a normal life. I don't know how to 'relate'. I don't know how to make what I feel into something that makes sense. I react. I've never had a date, Williams. I never got to go to school, after I was 7. I had to teach myself to fucking read."

The older woman finally looked away. "I've never been to a wedding, or seen a play. I've never been able to reach out. In all the years of my life, the only friend I've had is Captain Anderson, and I don't even know _why._" She paused. "I'm not an emotional blank. I hate, I rage. I.. hurt. But what I've gone through isn't anything people can find … a frame of reference with. I'm a pistol with an interesting history. Me trying to fill Anderson's shoes, to deal with things on that level. .. . never works."

Williams said nothing for a moment,then shook her head. "I can't buy that, Skipper. You reached out to me when I was going to pieces. And what you told me .. was right. Maybe you're not perfect, but you're not a monster just because of your past any more than I should be defined by what my ancestors did. I want to atone, to make the Williams name bright again, and you say I shouldn't have to. If that's true, what the hell are you trying to atone for yourself, ma'am? Surviving when they send you off to die? "

Shepard was quiet.

Long, silent seconds trickled by. The medbay smelled of cleansing agent, medigel, and the faint hint of Chakwas's perfume. The air vents rattled a little as cool, dry air blew down against Shepard's face, as she stared at something Williams couldn't see for a long, long time. Finally, Shepard just let her head fall back to the pillow. "I don't know, Williams. Being born? I never felt like I had choices. I .. just had to succeed, no matter what, or it was like I would be... back where I started." Shepard raised her hand to stare at it, noting the long scar on the back of her hand, tracing it's way along her wrist. "I don't know what to … feel."

Williams slowly nodded. "Well, when you don't know , sometimes you just need someone there to talk about it with. That's what friends are for. So you don't have to be alone with the dark."

Shepard closed her eyes. "Yeah, well. I've never had friends...like I said...Anderson's the only one."

Williams frowned. "Comma...Shepard. You just sat here and... listened to me whine, shared something with me that clearly hurts you just to think about, much less talk about, and beat a conversation into my head that my _father_ never had with me, or my _mom_, or any of my friends or CO's. You threw yourself into a pack of geth to save me when you barely knew me from some hot-head looking for vengeance, and then you got my chin up when I went all weepy on you. I... that's more than most friends have done for me." Williams exhaled. "I know I can't get where you've been. But that doesn't mean you have to stand in a puddle of your own pain alone. Williams girls are tough. And we don't let our friends suffer alone."

Shepard looked at Williams, watching as the younger woman gave an almost nervous smile, self-consciously brushing back a strand of hair and straightening in her seat. _There's that goddamned word again. That fucking empty hole. _

Anderson's voice in her head, his rough voice so … gentle. _"You can do this. You have to learn to live, now, child. You've punished yourself enough. It was never you who was at fault. It's been the people pushing you. Using you. Now you have to take one more step, Sara. Trust that you can be more."_

_That … fucking … word. _

"I.. don't know how to .. be ..friends, Chief." Her voice , for once, was not cold... it sounded almost small, in the echoing space of the medbay.

Williams reached out and took Shepard's hand, squeezing it. "First, you call people by their names. Mine is Ash. Second, it's not something you can research or study or master. It just is. Maybe I'm too stupid to take the hint, or maybe I just don't really care about the whole 'oh Butcher is scary' horsecrap. But like I said . . .if you act like a friend, then you are. It's not about small talk, or buying gifts, or even girls night out. It's … caring, when you don't have to."

Shepard was silent again, before biting her lip. "I am .. the most boring person to talk to... Ash. But if you have a fixation on stories about guns and shooting pirates, I can do that."

Williams grinned. "See? You just named two of the three bestest things in the universe. Those never get old."

Shepard leaned back. "...what's the third thing?"

Williams smiled, gently. "Friends."


	37. Chapter 31 : Normandy, Moments I

**A/N: **_Apparently__ the stupid auto-correct in OpenOffice has a bizarre sense of humor when it comes to adjusting words... such as turf and surf. Blasted machine is in a conspiracy with the Reapers. I'm very slowly going back, in between writing chapters, and cleaning up and fixing tenses and spelling/grammar mistakes, so bear with me. Half of these chapters are written a sentence at a time, as I fly all over creation due to my job. _

_Some of the chapters will incorporate text from the game, but I am not going rehash convos in the game unless there is a damned good reason.  
_

_I could **really** use a beta reader and someone to bounce insane ideas off of. _

* * *

January 26th , 2183 09:00 PM

It took some time for Chakwas to release Shepard from medical, and then another hour to report to Alliance Command and the Citadel. The response from both was terse. Alliance Command was tracking geth movement on the fringes of the Perseus Veil, and wanted to be able to move the Normandy in to investigate once they pinned down a region. The Council's response instructed Shepard to move to real-time comms distance after dealing with the volus distress signal.

Shepard had returned to her quarters, after a fruitless half hour checking the status of the ship, and began reviewing her messages and reports. Her leg still ached interminably from the damage on Therum , but she ignored it, focusing on making sure she completed every task as commanding officer correctly.

She rubbed her eyes after finishing reviewing the reports on the geth wreckage. Tali had done a very good job with it, and the analysis was both tactically useful and an interesting read. Shepard glanced through it again, just to make sure she understood it."

* * *

_Commander, we've pulled back all the geth platforms that your Marines found above the tunnels and within them. The most basic design is that of the geth trooper and heavy trooper. These have not varied much beyond the original servant design my people originally came up with. _

_All known geth platforms are built around a hydraulic frame, which anchors to the torso unit. The torso contains power generation, backup memory storage, and hydraulic fluidic storage. The interior is a simplified skeletal structure that mirrors that of the quarians themselves. Anchored to this framework are bundles of artificial muscle, myomer strands bundled together. The myomer reacts to electrical charges , amplifying the strength and smoothing out the motion of the hydraulic under-structure. The head is multifunction sensor pod, the CPU taking up the head and continuing down the armored spine. The antenna pack on the back is the interface matrix, which allows any geth to communicate to the greater geth network. _

_All geth units grow in intellectual ability and processing speed, as well as complexity, when networked with more geth. In theory , enough geth networked together would produce something along the lines of a super AI. In reality, coding obfuscation and simple laws of diminishing returns prevent this. _

_The geth trooper is a basic infantry unit with a pulse-rifle, firing plasma darts. The heavy trooper fires either anti-material missiles of shaped plasma flares or infantry suppression rockets. Some of these units also carry compact but very powerful missiles that are for light spacecraft interdiction. Garrus inspected one and said it was similar to the human Spearfish missiles the Normandy uses, only much smaller and with a VI providing guidance. Both basic troop types are dispatched most quickly by a headshot or a direct hit to the upper-middle back in the interface array. Torso and limb shots can incapacitate, but not always kill. Any severe damage will cause rupture of the hydraulic and cooling system, lowering combat speed, increasing heat load and crippling aim and response time. _

_There was a Geth Prime unit in the geth that attacked the 2nd Squad. I know you have killed two already, but you did it in a very non-optimal manner. The Geth Prime is built exactly like the geth troopers, just much, much bigger, with heavier armor, better myomer, thicker internal armoring, multiple back up systems, more intricate comm arrays, and more complex sensors. _

_While we estimate a standard geth platform only holds a few dozen to perhaps a hundred separate geth programs, working together to provide the unit guidance, the Geth Prime coordinates other groups of geth when away from the hubs. Geth Primes house thousands of platforms and should be treated like hostile AI . They can plan, adapt, improvise and worst of all, they make all other geth around them smarter and quicker to react. _

_The Geth Prime has no real weakness. It is built with a multifunction plasma weapon, or a heavy plasma cannon. My advice is to weaken it with land mines or remote drones, or a spray of rockets, before engaging it with sniper file. Close up , the plasma blast is (as you probably already know) devastating. _

_The other two platforms were new. This troubles me greatly – my people haven't seen new geth hardware since the deployment of Geth Primes 200 years ago. That was clearly a response to early efforts at retaking Rannoch, using communications jammers and other primitive methods to ruin the geth's connectivity. These new units have clearly been created by geth, but I cannot fathom why._

_The geth war machine I have decided to dub "armature". It is basically a scaled – down Colossus. The Colossus and, to a degree, the Armature, share all the same features. They aren't much different from geth troopers, except the larger torso contains powerful ME generators, and the legs are lined with batteries and backup shielding. And of course, the pulse cannon._

_The pulse cannon is terrifying, and I sincerely hope the geth can't miniaturize it further. It is basically a focused pulse of plasma energy in a shaped mass effect delivery envelop. The envelop degrades at a rate depending on the speed, keeping the plasma hot and effective. This gives it a range of over 4 miles in optimal conditions. _

_The Columns is clearly the geth armor unit. The Armature , given it's smaller bulk , could be deployed in urban zones. Either way, given their very thick armor, powerful weapons, and all-terrain flexibility, they could overrun us at any time. I'm concerned about the development of the Armature, as it's design has a number of anti-infantry influences (small armor shields over the joints, and armored reinforcement of the visual sensors) that make me wonder why the geth feel a need for a ground invasion platform. All the answers I come up scare me._

_The worst invention are the white geth things you fought in the caverns. I have designated them as Hoppers, and they are like nothing I've ever seen. The support, data storage and cooling systems are internal to a pipe skeletal framework that uses small mass effect fields instead of hydraulics, and the artificial muscles are some kind of bio-synthetic matrix of myomer and proteins. These things are grown, Commander. They are lightweight but just as strong as a larger geth. If externally armored they could bear armor almost three times the thickness of standard units. As close-quarters assault troops, they are terrifyingly fast and hard to kill. Only heavy shotguns and biotics have much chance of stopping them, most other weapons would just tear up the muscle without taking out the support systems..._

* * *

Tali had gone into great tactical and technological detail about other geth functions, but the gist of it was that the technological sophistication of the geth had been increased a hundredfold in a small amount of time,and it was all focused at heavy infantry.

_Doesn't make a lot of sense... if they wanted boarding troops, they would be optimized for armor and zero-g not . . . ground battle. And the geth tore up Eden Prime only because the heavy armor didn't respond. Those armatures are nasty, but any tank could take them out. _

Shepard left her quarters, thinking. She had often noticed that Anderson did what he called 'pep-talk walk arounds'. He would talk to people, see how they were doing, ask about their kids, their friends, chitchat and make sure they all felt comfortable with him. Shepard had no intention of doing that. Her conversation with Williams still weighed heavily on her mind, not just because the young woman had made her angry enough to talk about Torfan, but because Williams had a point. _I have to move beyond what I am or I have failed. _

Rather than mimic Anderson, she decided all she could do is be herself, but the idea of talking to people and being visible was a good one. She started in the CIC, her leg a bit sore but otherwise healthy. She talked to the Ops Alley techs, Jackson and Friggs, asking about display times and reaction mass indicators, showing them that she could read a five-point ECM display. One of them timidly asked about her previous space service and she told them , like she had Joker, that she had memorized the material and tested out. When they expressed amazement she folded her arms. "Captain Anderson was one of the most highly decorated command officers of the entire SA military. What I did isn't really amazing with him as my teacher."

Friggs, a fussy looking woman with very short, very straight white-blond hair and a perpetually sad expression, had shrugged. "It's just...like getting your air-car license by reading books and watching vids of how to drive, then participating in the SAACAR 5000. And winning. I'm sure it can be done...but … wow. Hey, if you have all the books memorized..." Shepard spent almost 15 minutes walking them through back-scatter radar operations, something that only the more obscure tech manuals she had read had talked about. By the time she was done, half of Ops Alley was watching and the other half of the techs in the CIC were listening. She looked around a bit self-conscious, and gave a smirk. "Alright, back to work. I'll be back later to … uh, cover something else."

* * *

Joker, at least, was more relaxed in his reaction to her. "Commander. That was … pretty intense down there on Therum. I'd like my medal to be gold, I think."

Shepard blinked. "What?"

Joker tapped controls while craning his head to look at her, an almost arrogant display of skill. "You know, turning the Normandy into a atmospheric gunship, running ground support with GTS missiles everywhere? She's not really meant to do much more in atmo than drop things off, much less maneuver against ground tanks on legs and 20 or so geth with launchers that punch holes in our armor plate with a single hit. Just for future reference."

With a small , wry grin, she folded her arms. "Oh, this should be good. Leaving aside the fact that going above and beyond your job is why you are on the most advanced ship in the fleet, you want a medal, huh? I don't know, Mr. Moreau. Having sat through some truly excruciating award ceremonies, the two things that stand out in them is full dress uniform and standing a lot."

"Ah, geez, then I'd have to shave. And standing is .. not a specialty of mine. Unlike awesome airborne assault and battle coordination." He smirked and turned back to his tasks, leaving Shepard to roll her eyes and glance around the cockpit.

Joker's voice sobered a moment later. "Seriously though.. Pressley was up here buggin' me about the hits we took. My baby is nimble and hot off the mark, but flaffling around in air creates drag, and that makes my maneuverability into shit. We're not designed to go in slugging it out with ground forces that have missile flecked with AM." Joker's reference to the shockingly advanced geth missiles made Shepard frown, but she nodded a moment later, her mouth in a grim line. "I got that much, Joker. I guess we'll have to deploy further out. Still...for what it's worth?" Shepard waggled her hand. "4 out of 5. Not the best air support I've seen. Once had a guy on Dirth take a UT-44 and take out two Mjolnir-A gunships, with nothing but the flares of his exhausts."

Joker's eyebrows drew towards each other under his SR1 hat, and he rubbed a finger between them roughly. "I could do that." Shepard shrugged. Joker smirked. "I could do that with the Normandy, even. Ma'am."

She burst out laughing. "Do they teach you how to BS like that in flight school, or is it something you're born with?

* * *

An hour later, and she had toured almost every space. Tali was exuberant to be put in charge of researching geth wreckage and to work in the engine room, almost bubbling over with enthusiasm and wide-eyed awe of the Tantalus Drive Core. The rest of the engineers smiled a lot when she would go into long explanations of how great certain things were, or make understated worries about too many automated systems.

Conversing with her was almost difficult. Some of it, Shepard suspected, was cultural. Raised by the most powerful man in the quarian fleet, in a society that valued hard choices and communal sacrifice for the greater good, Shepard's actions were , even at their worst, hardly horrific to Tali, at least her military ones. And Tali's brush with death had shaken her to her core. To her, Shepard was some kind of... heroic figure of dark and mysterious properties.

Shepard shook her head at the conversation and how it had gone.

"The quarian fleet has .. nothing like this, Shepard. It's...amazing. Clean. Quiet. The lines are so refined and businesslike. The whole ship is ... wow." Her voice was a mix of awe, happiness and contented disbelief. "Thank you so much for letting me work here and take part in what you're doing."

Shepard tilted her head to one side, as she usually did when considering something. It was one of the first things she had learned from Anderson as he tried to remake her from a bloody thing into a human being. Tali gave her an uncertain look. "Uhm, Commander.. you look. Well. Uncomfortable."

Shepard frowned, folded her arms, and raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that, Tali?"

The little quarian finished typing some sort of equation into the system and then looked up at Shepard for a moment before her silver gaze faltered and fled to the deck. "I.. that is. Quarians. My people. We don't .. get out of our suits much. I told you about our immune systems already, how it compromises us. That means we spend most of our lives sealed away from one another in featureless suits. We are good at figuring out body language, emotion from stance..it's sometimes all we have to go on."

Shepard smiles. "And that doesn't vary from culture to culture?" Tali shrugged, the gesture oddly...human looking. "Not as much as you would think. Asari and quarians both shrug like humans. Asari smile. Turians nod. Krogan fold their arms. No one leans forward in a friendly manner." She spread her hands, and walked a bit to stare at the drive core before glancing back at Shepard. "I can't read you very well. It's like .. a pile of preprogrammed stances that you rotate through. Fold arms, look stern, soften at end. Hands on hips, glare, waggle finger. Lift chin, smirk, walk off." Tali twisted her hands together and looked up again. "And around me, well. . . it's usually tilting your head, as if thinking, then telling me you're impressed."

Shepard didn't move for several seconds, before making a curiously flat gesture with a hand and giving an empty smile. "Anderson .. my captain, my .. mentor if you will..made me go to a class once on human relations. He thought it might help. It was like sending a person who barely understands addition and subtraction to a class on post-relativistic calculus. I .. I don't get people, a lot of times." Tali's head moved back, her stance becoming more narrow. The blue light of the Tantalus Core dappled strange patterns against the black smoothness of her suit. "But you are a successful commander, how can that be?" Shepard gave a rueful smile. "Human military forces work on a .. mm. A sense of personal respect and .. I guess, power of a leader, and then interlocking personal relationships. The best leaders are not merely tactical geniuses or strategic masters, but those who can inspire and .. develop others. Anderson has that knack. I don't."

Tali's hands unclenched, only to drop to her sides. "Quarian admirals can't manage that way. They have to be undivided, focused almost totally on the well being of the fleet. The Captain of a ship has to be the same way. Each one , especially the Liveships where we grow our food, and the nursery and medical ships, are so important, that a quarian who died defending one is considered a hero. Admirals..." Tali paused, her voice bruised with old pain .. "some of them can't even connect to family any more. They are just...duty .. made flesh."

Shepard gave a sad smile. "I'm very familiar with that sort of … burden. If I seem stiff, it's because I don't feel comfortable pretending to be something I'm not. I'll figure it out, if that is what is needed. But ...when I reacted to what you said, earlier, I was just thinking about what it must be like to be in an alien starship. I wasn't trying to … feign interest." Tali's voice was somehow small, quiet, hesitant. "..it's . too quiet sometimes. Our ships are loud, with ventilation fans and filters making things noisy, jury-rigged repairs rattling along, even the subtle slow failure of sound isolation joints now juddering with the rhythm of the drive core. Silence on as ship usually means power failure or environmental failure. It gets to me when I least expect it."

Shepard nodded. "Sounds like you wish you were back home."

Tali shook her head."Home … I do miss it. There are times I wish my Pilgrimage was done so I could go back to my people. But first, we have to stop Saren. Whatever he is doing with the geth is dangerous. My own silly wishes are not important...if we don't stop him , I may not have a home to return to."

Tali's hesitant, almost meek manner grated on something in Shepards's mindset. It made her vaguely feel protective, yet also as if she should be doing more to comfort the girl. Her voice was just so … broken .. sometimes. Still, Shepard had to admit, the young quarian woman was definitely no slouch when it came to doing work. In a few days, her aid had increased power yield by 8%, shield stability by 5% and allowed the Engineering crew to move to a real 3-section watch rotation. Tali demanded she go through the qualifications tests to stand watch and "contribute to the mission instead of standing around." Shepard could not really complain about such focus. . . it reminded her of herself.

* * *

Garrus was also being busy and helpful , even more so than Tali in some ways. He seemed to have need to be productive, to be part of the team. He had tuned the Mako, improving shields and tweaking the shocks, as well as patching battle damage. And the twin 40 mm cannons were calibrated down to just under half a degree of accuracy at the range of 5 light seconds, which was very impressive. He seemed to be busy burying himself in working on fiddling with the Mako's engine, tools strewn about as he tinkered, but they had a chat about the nature of his work with C-Sec. "It's hard to explain, now. And it seems almost silly. But most of what I did with C-Sec was go after cases that pissed me off." Shepard laughed at that. "Well, criminals in general piss me off, but I don't think that's what you mean."

Garrus flicked a mandible. "It isn't. I mean, some crime on the Citadel is inevitable. 200,000 policing 15 million would be less than 1 cop per 70 people, but at least a quarter of C-sec is support services or customs, and another fifth is off station. The case loads are enormous, and the dockets are overloaded as well. Special Ops clears out the worst of the worst – the slavers, body snatchers, organ and clone bootleggers, and Terminus gangs trying to get a foothold. But we can never stop it all."

Shepard tilted her head. "And how do you see your job? Is it just shooting down bad guys?" Garrus frowned. "I .. that's a good question. I mean, in terms of why I joined...no different than anyone else. I wanted to fight injustice, wanted to help people. I … guess my father had something to do with it. He was C-Sec, one of the best. I grew up hearing about his accomplishments ... seeing his picture on the vids after a big arrest. " Garrus looked down. "He's … taking my suspension and resignation pretty hard." The blue eyes glanced up, searching for … something. "I... he and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, Commander. My father's a C-Sec man to the bone. He believes things should be done properly. More than most turians, I suppose. 'Do things right, or don't do them at all,' he always said. " The big turian sighed, setting his mechanics tools aside on the little bench next to the Mako, and he sat down on the metal sub-wall next to the tank. "He thinks I'm being too rash. Too impatient. He's worried I'll become just like Saren. He actually talked me out of becoming a Spectre when I was younger. For the same reason."

Shepard frowned. "They wanted you as a Spectre? When was this?"

"Well, I was targeted as a possible Spectre candidate when I was in , what do you humans call it...boot camp?" Garrus' expression turned wry, mandible low and tight. "Me and about a thousand other turian military recruits. I could have received special training, but my father didn't like it. He _despises_ the Spectres. He hates the idea of someone having unlimited power with no accountability. He wouldn't like you, Commander. No offense." Shepard had shrugged. "None taken. He's right on a lot of that. Humanity has a very apt saying. 'Absolute power corrupts absolutely'. I've seen criminals who forgot they weren't actual gods. I've seen good men do horrible things because no one stops them. I have very little doubt that Saren has some reason for going...bad, but the truth remains that without unlimited power, there are other things to keep normal people in line. But the more power you have, the easier it is to fall."

Garrus frowned and suddenly clamped his jaw shut, turning away to tinker with the engine again, saying nothing. Shepard tilted her head. "Vakarian, I'm not a turian. You can say what you feel." Garrus shrugged, his broad back hunching slightly. "Whatever you say, Commander. I was.. just .. I don't know. Saren's not going to play by our rules. He's not going to play by C-Sec's rules...or the Alliance's rules. If you want to nail Saren, you need to send someone who isn't restricted by policies and procedures." Shepard shook her head. "That doesn't change the fact that in the end, without someone to rein people in, they lose control." Shepard paused. "I'm definitely not a by the book person. Usually with me it ends up on fire in a corner. But we all have to ask ourselves how to do something the right way, not just the quick or easy way."

Garrus turned and stared at her, his alien features harsh and angular in the dim light, the lambent glow of his visor illuminating his jaw. "And what happens when caution and restraint end up with innocents dead? What happens when in the name of following regs and red-tape, the criminal escapes?" Shepard smiled. "You can get things done that way, by ignoring the red-tape. But the costs come back to haunt you just as much. I've run into that more than once. I don't break the law, or bend it. I do what I have within it, or I'm as bad as the criminal I'm trying to take out." Garrus had laughed, but it was a brittle sound, almost bitter. "Annnd now you sound like Pallin." The turian adjusted the bolt on a piece of armor plating almost angrily. "There's crimes that are so horrible, they must be paid for."

Shepard exhaled a long, tired breath. "There's no criminal worth becoming a criminal to bring down. I have to believe that. It's too easy to lose track of right and wrong without knowing where to stop before you even get moving. I plan to bring Saren in,or kill him. If that means I have to sacrifice people to do it, I will. If it means I die, so be it." Shepard turned to look the turian right in the eyes. "But I won't let him compromise who I am, what I believe in. Killing to stop a great evil is only the right choice when nothing else works."

Garrus's harmonics seemed sullen. "That doesn't sound like what I've heard of your career.'

Shepard shook her head. "The people who write that stuff don't understand soldiers, or what pain you feel when you have to send off good men and women to die. All the killing I've done is a reaction, and … mostly , it's the only reaction that I know. But I'm not stupid enough to think that killing the pirates stops the piracy." She paused and gave Garrus a firm look. "I'm not a cop. There's a difference in what I did and what you did, Police Chicken."

Garrus made an arch movement with his face, looking down at her. "Detective Police Chicken to you." He smiled, tension easing a bit, and turned back to working on the Mako. "I understand where my father is coming from. Where Pallin is coming from. What you are saying. But I've had my own experiences with red tape and rules resulting in an evil man getting away to do more evil. No matter how you end up spelling it out, it's better to end evil now, even if it costs 10 lives, or 20, rather than let it continue and watch as the body count goes into the low hundreds."

Shepard scratched the back of her neck, and sighed. "I can't really argue with that, as long as you own up to being responsible for the lives you end up taking to do so. And most people won't. They'll say it was the only way, they'll talk about duty or whatever, but they won't take ownership for the people that get hurt or killed in the course of what they do. And you eventually start losing the connection to the cost of actions like that."

Garrus flung a taloned hand in the air, suddenly angry. "Who cares about that? Owning up to it? Who owns up to the people who suffer when you don't stop them? Who takes responsibility when you let the druggie go because of evidence rules and he sells some little girl enough hallex to fry her brains? Who is taking responsibility for when the slavers don't get taken out because they have hostages, and they go right on slaving? " He made a flicking motion with a single talon, as if discarding something. "Pallin is outraged at people going to far. My spirits-damned father thinks it's more important to be obedient than to fight for the people that get hurt. You talk about ownership? Who owns what happens to the victims? Who owns what happens to the people hurt by the criminals?" Harmonic ranges in his voice came unbound as he stalked back and forth, almost growling. "The only thing that matters is stopping the criminal."

Shepard stood, and planted herself in his way, jaw set. "And when you start thinking like that, your father is right. You end up fucked. Goddamn it, I'm not talking from some bullshit philosophy course here! I've had to do that. I've had to sacrifice people to get the bad guy. It never, ever ends the way you want it to. I hate criminals. God, if you ever saw my own criminal record, you'd want to put a bullet in my head."

Garrus gave a frown. "What do you mean?"

Shepard's eyes were still hard, as she folded her arms. "Before I was in the military, I got mixed up with gangs. I had biotic power, and very few humans did. Most of the ones who had it were in the military, so I was like a goddamned nuke. They dragged me to a black market doctor and cut an L2 into me. I was a biotic assassin, the Tenth Street's secret weapon. They kept me high and fucked up most of the time, encouraging me to kill and terrify." She looked away, closing her eyes. "I killed...hundreds. Stole. Vandalized. Slung drugs. Arson, grand theft...all of it."

Garrus had a strange, pained expression on his face. "But...how did you get into the military? If you were a criminal..."

Shepard's smile was wry, bitter, twisted. "I found a conscience. I got saved by being jumped by two other gang-bangers by Anderson when he was on leave, and in turn I stopped him from getting his head blown off. And then the gang had the bright idea to try to ransom him. And wanted ME to do it." Shepard's gaze was fixed on some distant, invisible point. "And for the first time in my life something in me just said...no. So , instead of killing him, I went on a red-sand induced rampage that ended only when SWAT teams in heavy armor took everything I could throw at them and held me down, and Anderson got me to surrender. The human military … takes violent , crazy people like me and puts them in what we call a penal legion. You fight until you die, or until the military feels you've proven you can work in the real military. You quit , they kill you. You fail too much, they kill you. You go crazy, or lose it, they kill you."

Shepard sighed. "I managed to … make myself better. I turned every bit of skill at killing innocents into killing enemies of my race. Slavers. Druggies. Marauders. I studied everything, mastered every weapon, pushed myself far beyond what anyone else had been driven to … because I was disgusted by what I had let myself be turned into by wicked, evil men."

Garrus was still silent, talons crosshatched over one leg, the plates over his eyes drawn down. She made a dismissive gesture with her hands. "And with all of that... you know what I took away from it all? Vengeance is satisfying. Doing things the quick way is satisfying. Blowing the no-good fucks away is satisfying. But it never stops them. You kill this one guy, and this one guy, and this one guy, and sooner or later someone innocent gets caught up in the fallout." She sighed. "You have to make your own decisions on how to approach it. It probably sounds .. hypocritical for someone like me to even talk that way. But emulating me is not .. ever … a good thing, Detective. You go after the bad guys to defend people and do things the right way, not to be some kind of goddamned turian version of Judge Dredd."

The turian had tilted his head, which sent them into another long discussion about human comic novels and their applicability to alien culture. She realized that the only place left in the ship she hadn't gone was to see the asari.

_Oh, this ought to go well. _


	38. Chapter 32 : Normandy, Liara and Shepard

**lA/N:** _And here's the other fluffy piece. Next stop, horror onboard the volus ship._

* * *

January 27th , 2183 2:00 AM

Shepard checked on the two soldiers in the Medbay, both healed enough to be conscious but sleeping, and then exhaled and entered the research lab, where the asari was.

Shepard had never had a reason to enter the lab before, not being much for research, and having little to research in any case. It was a smallish room, square and with a rather low ceiling. Along the right side were several heavy crates, carefully strapped to the wall's railing to prevent movement. Behind them, at the back of the room, was a single frame cot, with a foam pillow and a single blanket.

The left side of the room was the lab counter. There were spectrometers and mass analyzers and other things hooked to a sliding railing that ran along the ceiling, and two micro-frame computers humming quietly below the counter. The counter itself was flanked at either end by cabinets of trace elements, racks of micro-effect repair tools, and in the middle of the counter were two research terminals.

Liara T'soni slumped in a chair in front of one, asleep. Her uniform was rumpled but clean, and her breathing seemed calm and even as Shepard looked around. The terminal was active, half done notes about something to do with crystal-lattice formations on the screen. A chunk of white material Shepard immediately realized as the stuff the Prothean ruin was made of had been carefully clamped next to the machine, a datapad laying next to that still on.

Shepard was about to simply turn and leave when the asari shook her head in her sleep, whimpering. Her eyes were still closed, but she suddenly looked as if she was cringing. Frowning, Shepard reached out and touched the young woman's shoulder.

Liara shot awake, her already wide eyes widening further at the sight of Shepard. "C-commander .. I .. Goddess, I must have fallen asleep. I .. I am sorry." Her voice was lilting, hesitant and sad but somehow also worried.

Shepard tried out a gentle smile on her face , and stepped back a bit. "I just was coming around to see if you were settling in alright. And it IS very late. I just .. you should sleep on the cot , it's much more comfy. Sounded like you were having a nightmare. Didn't want to leave you like that."

Liara, with an obvious effort, calmed herself, and her face took on an almost immobile , still look. Shepard felt a shiver creep up her spine as she witnessed it. _She's blanking herself.. just like I do. I never realized I looked that... mechanical doing it though._

A moment later, Liara nodded her head calmly. "I am fine, Commander. I am gratified to see that you are .. unhurt. I never got to thank you properly for rescuing me from starvation and death, or worse, on Therum. A hot shower and some food and water have done much more in bringing me back to life, but it is due to you."

Shepard walked over to the other chair at the counter and sat down, wincing as something in her leg pulled briefly. "The doctor says the ground team – and myself – will be fine. But .. that you kind of overdid it."

Liara glanced away, the guileless blue eyes looking almost lost for a moment. "I.. I panicked. I should have.. distracted it, or .. something. If I had failed to disable it , it would have k-killed you." The lost look hardened into anger. "And I wasn't going to let that … thing... do anything else." Another pause. "I .. I am sorry I lost control, it will not happen again, I assure you, while I am on your ship."

Shepard gave her an almost incredulous look. "Doctor, you hardly have to apologize for saving my life. It is something that doesn't happen to me very often, especially when you could have been killed or .. worse." Shepard remembers Chakwas' words and winces. "I just wanted.. to say I do appreciate it a great deal." Liara meets Shepard's gaze, searching, and again they both merely stared at each other for a moment before Shepard faltered, turning aside to scratch her jawline and look at the Prothean chunk of wall. Shepard saw Liara primly fold her hands in her lap. In the dim light of the lab, she almost looked as if she's embarrassed. "I .. also came to talk about … why we came to pick you up. If you feel you are up to it."

Liara swallowed but gave a small, jerky nod. "I am.. as I said, fine, Commander. I merely needed to eat and rehydrate myself. I .. I know you took a chance bringing me onboard this ship. I have seen the way your crew looks at me. They do not trust me. But I am not like Benezia."

Shepard frowned. "It's not that they don't trust you. But … the situation does look.. very bad. My pilot and XO , and the ground crew – Wrex and Garrus – were the only ones who saw you damn near kill yourself saving our asses down there. But.. the doc – Chakwas – was very clear on what a risk you took."

Liara shrugged. "It was not so great a thing. You .. you are a hero. You are doing something to protect many innocents. I'm just .." She shrugged. "A naïve fool, I suppose, studying the unimportant history of a dead race that is gone and forgotten except in how they can provide better ways to kill." She sounded both bitter and broken, and Shepard found herself reacting without thinking. "That isn't true. You could have .. died. Or have nerve damage or.. worse things." Shepard exhaled. "And trust me, Doctor, compared to someone like me, you're a lot better person. I'm no hero. And most of all, I think your knowledge of Prothean history will be very valuable."

The asari placed a slender hand to her neck, rubbing away some tension. "You are very kind to say such a thing, Commander. But I do not understand how anything I could know would be of any use in a hunt for a .. rogue Spectre. As I said, I have not spoken directly to my mother in … years. I have had messages from her, increasingly cold ones. We are not close, and all I know of Saren is that my mother took him as a lover some time ago."

Shepard blinked, surprised, then nodded. "Huh. Kinda .. er, kinky."

Liara raised her eyebrows, which Shepard realized a moment later were actually tattoos shaped like eyebrows. _What the shit is that? _She barely registered the asari's next words for a moment. "Asari are open with relationships, and many turians seek out asari companionship when isolated from their own kind. We regenerate from most wounds, very slowly but fully, so issues such as minor cuts and abrasion are mostly non-issues."

Shepard leaned back, a somewhat confused expression on her face. "O.. kay. This conversation is going places I never, ever expected." She coughed, and shook her head. "Um. Anyway. We have to discuss a few things. The Council ordered me to come here, to find you. They feel you're the only person who might have any insight into why Benezia is taking this action."

Liara's delicate blue coloration deepened slightly, elegant hands closing to tiny fists as she looked imploringly at Shepard. "I know nothing. I don't understand why she would do something like this. She was … always outspoken about the need for asari to become more involved in shaping galactic events. She felt that we needed to guide other species, help them." Liara's slender shoulders rose and fell, similar to a human shrug but the motion was subtly .. wrong. "Maybe she thought allying herself with Saren would somehow be for the greater good in the long run. At least, I hope so." Shepard frowned. "That should make the Council happy. After Eden Prime we don't know where he or she went, or what they're doing. The only activity we have is them coming after you. There must be some reason why they would do that, something that makes...sense."

"None of this makes any sense to me!" Liara's voice burst out, a trill of despair and anger and sorrow all in a few heartbroken words. "I have not even spoken to her in many years, but I **knew** her. And this was not like her. Something changed." Liara looked at her hands. "I have .. lost my position at the University, I have no .. resources left. I don't know what to do."

Shepard felt as if her face was going to crack, her frown had now become an almost angry scowl. She forced herself back to a more neutral expression. "Hey. Look at me."

Large, delicate blue eyes like a windblown spring day met hers. Trustingly. Brokenly.

Shepard blinked and exhaled. "I know this is hard on you. It's.. your mother. No one is going to make you do anything, okay? But I could.. .really use your help. You know about the Protheans, and this whole mess might involve them. You know Benezia, which can only help us. You are very strong biotically...stronger than me, or Wrex, or my marine commander, Lieutenant Alenko. Most of all, unlike anyone else I could go and find, I know I can trust you." Liara blinked. "I.. I do not know how to respond. Why do you need to know about the Protheans? How can you trust me when you do not even know me?"

Shepard leaned back. "I'll explain as we go along. First...indulge me. Tell me about yourself."

Liara looked surprised, then a bit sad. "I .. am afraid I am not very interesting, Commander." Her voice had an almost shy , worried tone. "I spend most of my time on Prothean digs, unearthing mundane items buried in long-forgotten Prothean ruins. I wor.. used to work as a data assistant and field researcher for the University of Serrice, and on Therum I was overseeing a cooperative effort with a salarian university. But most times, I work alone, on small remote digs. Most of my work is focusing on the Prothean extinction. That is my real area of expertise. I have spent the past fifty years trying to figure out what happened to them. "

Shepard nodded. "Fifty years? That sounds … dangerous. And a very long time to be lonely."

Liara gave a small, self-depreciating smile. "I am not .. helpless. Sometimes I would run afoul of indigenous life-forms, or stumble across a small band of mercenaries or pirates." She lifted her chin a little. "But I was always careful. Until I found myself facing a krogan and geth in the tunnels below Therum, I never found myself in any situation my biotics could not handle."

Liara looked away, a sad, empty expression filling her face. "As for the solitude, well, that is one aspect that most appealed to me. Sometimes, I just need to get away from other people."

"You don't like other people?" Shepard's voice was surprised sounding.

Liara gave a mocking laugh. "I am not very good at talking to people, and to be honest, I tend to not understand most people. Even my own race. Especially my own race." The eyes closed, and the lips twisted into a small expression of dark amusement. "It is almost worthy of laughter, I suppose. A Matriarch's daughter, expected to follow and become a leader for my people. Matriarchs guide their followers into the future; they seek the truth of what is yet to come."

Liara opened her eyes. "But I fear I am unable to see any future , for myself. And truth is a taste of disappointment and futility. Perhaps that is why I became so interested in the secrets of the past. It sounds so … foolish when I say it out loud. It sounds like I became an archaeologist simply to not have to deal with the fact I am .. awkward." Shepard exhaled. "Trust me, you are not the only one who is awkward. I.. never got how humans worked. Emotions were always a cipher to me. Where you threw yourself into ignoring people, I just killed them out of frustration, fear, hate...jealously." Liara's voice , rather than being horrified, was thick with some .. deep, twisted amusement. "The feeling that nothing quite fit. Everyone else, moving along in harmony, able to fit, to be a part of things. I fear I am … far too familiar with that feeling."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. Never quite making that … connection. It pissed me off. Drove me crazy. Never … got it." She exhaled. "Hell. I don't get it now, really. Just flying on bravado."

"And stumbling through the pain that results?"

Shepard gave Liara a long, penetrating look. "For a fucked up human and a delicate asari scientist lady, we're not that different."

Liara's eyes were sad. "I wish it were otherwise. To know others feel as disconnected as I is no comfort." She exhaled. "And that is why I cling to the past, I think. I felt _drawn _to the past. The Protheans were these wondrous, mysterious figures. I wanted to know everything about them. I still do. Everyone is only concerned with using their technology to make money, or build better weapons. Why did they vanish? Was it a civil war, or external? What was their art, or music like?"

Liara's eyes seemed to come alive as she spoke, and Shepard found herself smiling almost instinctively. _I could stare into those all day...fuck. What are you doing, girl? Pull your shit together. She's not even human. _

"Shepard?"

She started, coughing as she realized she had been staring and actually flushed. "S-sorry, doc. Just … I .. I have Protheans on the mind, you might say, and what you said got me.. .reflecting on that."

Liara's own expression was confused, and .. something else Shepard couldn't read. "Protheans on the mind? I am afraid I do not understand."

Shepard nodded. "Let's...back up. Earlier you said that you had studied the Prothean extinctions for more than fifty years. Um, forgive me for asking, but that's .. most of a human's lifespan. How old are you , exactly?"

Liara's eyes flickered to the ground again. "I am only one hundred and six. I am sure that sounds aged to a human...but in asari terms, I am.. barely more than a child. Perhaps, what is the term? A teenager. It is one reason why my research has not received the attention it deserves. Because of my youth, other asari scholars tend to dismiss my theories on what happened to the Protheans. And , well..." She trailed off, a hurt expression in her eyes. ".. I fear that I am … not good at presenting my case. Like I said, I prefer to be alone many times. It easier to... focus."

Shepard shrugged. "But your expertise is exactly what we need. I think this entire mess might be related _to _the extinctions you study. I have... a theory of sorts, of my own."

Liara actually smiled. "With all due respect, commander, I have heard every theory out there. The problem is finding evidence to support them. The Protheans left remarkably little behind. It is almost as if someone did not want the mystery solved. As if someone... came along after the Protheans were gone and cleansed the galaxy of clues. But the incredible part is that I have found … fragmentary evidence that the Protheans were not the first galactic civilization to mysteriously vanish. This cycle began long before them."

Shepard felt a spike of fear shiver through her body. The nightmarish vision in her head flashed across her eyes, the endless dark rain of black leaves bringing death. With a sharp exhalation, she shook her head. "If someone picked up all the clues, what have you find supporting this idea of yours?"

Liara's eyes flashed, almost … aggressive instead of sadly passive. "I have tracked down every scrap and shred of evidence over the past fifty years. Eventually, subtle patterns started to emerge. Patterns that hint at the truth. It is... difficult to explain to someone else. I cannot point to one specific thing to prove my case. It is more... a feeling derived from a half-century of dedicated research. But I know I am right."

Her voice softened, a painful note coming into it. "And eventually I will be able to prove it. There were other civilizations before the Protheans. This cycle has repeated itself many times over. The Protheans rose up from a single world until their empire spanned the entire galaxy. Yet even they climbed to the top on the remains of those who came before. Their greatest achievements—the mass relays and the Citadel—are based on the technology of those who came before them. We know the mass relays have to be older than the Prothean culture. Their oldest ruins are no more than 68,000 years old, but the radiocarbon dating of your own Charon relay showed the ice was more than 200,000 years old. They did not create the Mass Relays. Some other... older...forgotten civilization did that. And then like all the others throughout galactic history, the Protheans disappeared. I have dedicated my life to figuring out why."

Shepard nodded. "Well, Doctor...I think I know the answer. A race of killing machines the Protheans called the Reapers."

Liara frowned, looking bewildered. "T-the Reapers? But I have never heard of..." Shepard watched confusion turn to thought, to curiosity. "How do you know this? What evidence do you have?"

Shepard folded her hands together, eyes narrowed. "You heard about the strike of the geth on Eden Prime, you said. We believe the geth were there with Saren to grab a recently discovered Prothean beacon. We defeated the geth, but when I got too close to the beacon, it … burned a vision into my brain. I'm still trying to sort out what it all means."

"Visions?" Liara's voice was distant, her eyes alive with possibility. "Yes... that makes sense. The beacons were designed to transmit information directly into the mind of the user. Finding one that still works is extremely rare. No wonder the geth attacked your colony. The chance to acquire a working beacon...even a badly damaged one...is worth almost any risk." Her expression shifted from contemplation to something like awe. "But ...the beacons were only programmed to interact with Prothean physiology. Whatever information you received would have been confused, unclear."

Shepard threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, Doctor, you have no idea. Tevos said the same thing, and said these Beacons usually kill whoever uses them. But that's usually scientists, who .. aren't used to what I saw. Machines coming down from the sky...people being...slaughtered. Dissolved. Cities of gleaming light being destroyed, blood..." Shepard shivered and placed her face into her hands. "I've seen..and done some horrifying shit. But … goddamnit, that was the scariest, most disgusting thing I've seen. And it's in pieces, sloshing around in my head like...fuck. I don't even know. I have nightmares about it every time I sleep."

Liara's voice was barely above a whisper. "I...I am amazed you were able to make sense of it at all. A lesser mind would have been utterly destroyed by the process. You must be remarkably strong-willed, Commander." She sighed, then went very still.

Shepard tilted her head. "What is it, Doctor?" She felt a curious dread suddenly curling in her stomach. Something about the asari's expression was .. familiar. The carefully controlled gaze, the tightness of the jaw.

Liara's voice was steady but hesitant. "I.. I might be able to … help you sort out the visions you are seeing. I have spent many years studying Prothean language, their … legacy. I am familiar with concepts and .. cultural imagery."

Shepard shrugged. "I .. I can't really explain it out anymore than I have. I don't know how much good that will do."

Liara carefully placed her hands together on her lap, her knees drawn together, sitting almost stiffly. "I .. was not suggesting you explain it. Are you... that is, I mean, do you know anything about asari? Our abilities?"

Shepard shrugged. "You're all natural biotics? I trained with a commando unit for a few weeks... " She trailed off, suddenly, eyes narrowing. "... you mean... like .. um, the bonding thing?"

Liara's voice was very strained. "N-no. That is, it is not … I mean, not that I would not .. oh, Goddess!" This time Shepard was sure that was a flush, her skin darkened almost two tones as she covered her face with her hands.

Shepard was torn between wanting to laugh , wanting to tell her it was okay..and suprisingly enough, a tiny bit of disappointment. _Aaaand that is my queue to hit the bars when I get back to the Citadel. _Shepard coughed, and gently put a hand on the asari girl's shoulder. "Hey. It's .. I mean, why don't you try explaining it. I understand what you are saying , I think , it's like joining but not romantic or sexual?"

Liara nodded mutely, dropping her hands. "I am very sorry, Commander. I did not mean to give insult -"

Shepard opened her mouth to say something semi-calming, and instead heard her own voice say "Hey, I'm definitely wouldn't be upset with a beautiful woman saying she was interested in me." Shepard snapped her jaw shut, and immediately cursed. "Sorry. That was.. a really .. bad joke."

Liara looked at the Commander for a long moment before the barest hint of a shy smile appeared. "Well, now that we have both made complete idiots of ourselves, let me try again. It is similar to an asari joining, but only for the use of .. memories and images. I would join the surface of my .. .consciousness to yours, our nervous systems conjoining to allow me to .. see … what you were showing me."

Shepard's voice is thin and wary. "That .. sounds .. um, intrusive. I … have a lot of things I'm not sure I .. well. That anyone should see."

Liara nodded. "Deeper memories are impossible to touch without a full melding, I would only see the … things you chose to focus on and ...the best word I can think of is to 'push' the images and thoughts at me. It .. would be wrong to invade someone's privacy...and in doing that , I would .. er, that is, the link would work both ways."

Shepard nodded. "You think you could figure things out? Make it a little more clear in my head?"

Liara gave an opening motion with her hands. "It may help with your headaches...and it is a chance for me to … see some of what I have pursued my whole life. I d-do not mean to be clinical about it..."

Shepard couldn't help herself and arched an eyebrow. "If you aren't clinical about it, what's your interest? Fascination?"

Liara stuttered a bit, but bit her lip and kept going. "Y-yes, I suppose. I admit I find you... fascinating, Commander. You were marked by the beacon on Eden Prime; you were touched by working Prothean technology!"

"Sounds like you wanna dissect me in a lab somewhere, Doctor."

Liara looked horrified, her skin darkening again, eyes wide. "What? No!" She almost got up out of her chair, biting her lip again. "I did not mean to insinuate.. I mean... I never meant to offend you. I only meant that you would be an interesting specimen for an in-depth study". She flushed deeper, burying her face into her hands. "No, that's even worse!"

"Calm down... Liara. I .. I was just joking. Should have stopped after the first one."

"Joking?" Liara's eyes widened even further, before stupefied comprehension flooded them."Oh, by the Goddess! How could I be so dense? You must think that I am a complete and utter fool. Now you know why I prefer to spend my time in the field with data discs and computers. I always manage to find some way to mess things up. Please… just pretend this conversation never happened."

"Hey." Shepard shook her head. "Like .. I said. I know what it's like to .. um, mess up every attempt to talk. I'm not helping things, I guess, and I'm sorry for that." Shepard exhaled. "What... er, would .. be involved in this... joining?"

Liara had a curious expression on her face, which twisted when Shepard said "joining", but otherwise she was silent for a few moments. "It requires skin to skin contact, a hand would be fine, and for me to .. focus." Liara's voice dropped. "A-are you .. sure?"

Shepard forced a smile. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Liara tilted her head at this expression, then she nodded. "A trite but.. accurate saying." She took a deep, calming breath and held out a blue, elegant hand, palm up. "Did you wish to try now or..."

Shepard took the hand, the warmth and soft skin touching her own with a delicacy she did not expect. "I guess I am."

_There was a burst of … emotion/memory. Screaming Reapers chasing her through the New York Arcology. Crowds of blue-skinned faces with dark,narrowed, disapproving answers. The smell of a perfume...the taste of blood , the screaming of the warnings...a thousand days of dusty disappointment, the flash of cordite on the fourth trench in Torfan..._

A flash of white pain on black, of red agony on blue, and two figures slumped to the deck unconscious.


	39. Chapter 33 : Normandy , Memories I

**A/N: **_Needs more angst. After this is several actiony chapters, another interview, and more Cerberus.  
_  
_**UPDATE: **____5-9-12 – due to feedback, Jason Cole is now Jason Dunn. Originally I planned to compare and contrast the two, but it is confusing and I can still compare them without the Master Sergeant have the same name last name. _

* * *

January 27th , 2183 2:40 AM

Shepard blinked, feeling awkward and sore as she sat up on the floor. Her head felt both very clear and somehow injured, and her entire body ached as if she had been hit with a biotic throw.

Shepard groaned, getting to one knee, and immediately saw the form of Liara on the floor. "Liara!" Forcing her muscles to react, she scooted over to the prone asari and lifted her upright. Liara winced, squeezing her eyes shut, mumbling. "...too many.. dying..."

Shepard looked on in horror. _How fucking stupid can I be? Tevos said most of the scientists who touched a beacon went mad or fucking died, and I just let her do it without thinking! _Biting her lip, she wracked her brains, thinking back to the brief time she spent with the asari commandos...

* * *

"_For a sansoi , you are quite adept at your control of the flow, Shepard." Seinna's elegant voice was limned with amusement as the asari commando leaned against the wall of the biotic sparring facility. Her dusky blue skin was barely concealed by knee length tight shorts and a sort of halter top with a bodysleeve that covered not very much below her prominent breasts, leaving her muscular arms bare._

_Shepard shrugged, wiping sweat away with a rag she tucked back in her belt. "Weakness breeds failure."_

_Seinna nodded. "A cruel philosophy, Lieutenant Commander. But usually true. Asari believe that strength comes in two forms. There is the external, visible strength. Like the whipping wind of the coast, hurling breakers of seafoam onto the beach. Like the bared knife or readied biotic punch. It is a strength that must be held aloft at all times. It strengthens the soul, but it is a drain on the soul as well, and when things are most dire , it is the most likely to give out in exhaustion."_

_Seinna smiled, walking around the young human woman in a slow circle, dark eyes measuring her. "Every inch of you exudes kantha, the killing strength, the external fire. It draws people to you and makes them flee. But that is not the only kind of strength, young one, and to assume those without kantha are weak is to ignore other kinds of power."_

_Shepard had frowned. "What other kind of strength can there be?"_

_The older asari held out a simple piece of cloth, rippling in patterns of gold and blue. "This is a scarf. My daughter wove it for me, herself, out of mist-silk. It is only cloth. Utterly flexible. Utterly weak." She snapped her arm out, pivoting on her foot, and the cloth bound itself around Shepard's wrist, binding her down as Seinna brought both hands up , leaving them face to face, the older asari's lips quirked in an amused smile. "But for an instant, despite all your strength, it makes me stronger."_

_Shepard frowned, and Seinna shrugged. "It is called the viala, the hidden strength, the tide beneath the waves that rises up from love or anger or fear .. that is strongest. It only comes forth when needed and is never thus exhausted..."_

_Shepard's frown turned into a curious look. "So it's emotional?" Seinna smiled. "Sometimes. It is invoked by a mother fighting to protect her children...a lover struggling to project her love at her dying partner in a hospital. It's found in the desperation of soldiers sacrificing themselves for their comrades to escape, for an artist when they are working on their masterpiece. You cannot force it without caring, without … being emotional."_

_Shepard sighed. "Emotions just get in the way, Strike Mistress."_

_Seinna laughed, a joyous, almost musical sound that always made Shepard feel as if she was being mocked...and yet made her feel good at the same time. The asari's features were wistful but not sad. "There will come a time when emotion comes to you. Not hate, not fear, not that dreadful burning terror of your anger which consumes any fool in it's path...but something more pure. More true. And when it does, all you can do is focus on that feeling, even if it is 'in the way', even if you don't understand it, and let it work."_

_Shepard rolled her eyes. "Ain't gonna stop bullets like a barrier. I know your people are big on philosophy, but mastering happy-squeeze aura isn't going to do much for me."_

_The other asari snickered. "Your facility with words to dismiss anything positive is quite impressive, Shepard. Just remember what I said." The warrior's face took on a sad look, the fire in the sapphire blue eyes dying suddenly. "You may find someone you want to hang on to, one day, and not knowing it could leave you empty for a long , long time."_

_Shepard had snorted, but a sudden image of a dying Anderson made her frown. "Alright, blue. Lay it on me."_

* * *

Shepard grimaced, and lifted the asari in her arms, pressing her palm against the other woman's hand, trying to force a connection as she had felt Liara doing a second before everything exploded. She remembered the weirdness of the method Seinna had showed her, trying to remember how it was accomplished. Blue light flared out as she shook the asari. "Liara! Shit. Liara! I am right here. You need to wake up...stop focusing on it and wake up!"

For long seconds, nothing happened, then the blue radiance faded without warning, and the asari gave an deep inhalation of breath and shook her head. "Ooh...what... " She looked around her, and then up at Shepard, who still held her hand while propping her. "I.. it was so _intense_. I am afraid I lost control entirely , I was not expecting it to be so..." The young woman's expression almost crumpled. "How.. you buffered me from the full force of it but how... did you _survive?_" Liara's voice edged into a mix of awe and something huskier, but Shepard just pulled them both to their feel wincing as muscles pulled.

Shepard took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I don't … know." She blinked, a sudden memory of standing alone before a group of asari matriarchs flashing across her mind. A memory that couldn't have been hers. "Liara, I .. thought you said this would not cover anything but the vision. But I have one of your memories."

The asari's eyes were still filled with a mix of pain and fear, and now embarrassment and shame flooded her expression, as she glanced away. Her voice was a panicky stammer."I – I didn't intend … I mean, I am not .. experienced at .. at this sort of transfer...and it was so .. fast and the Beacon images so ..."

Shepard frowned, letting her hands fall away from steadying the other woman, and she folded her arms, taking a single step back. "Like I said, Doctor. I have a lot of .. private memories. If I can 'remember' you being bitched out by the University of Serrice , you got some of mine. You said this joining was similar to what asari do for sex and in relationships, don't tell me you aren't experienced – "

Liara's eyes flashed angrily. "I've never had a union with anyone in my life!" Her jaw trembled for a moment before her expression crumbled again and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

Shepard blinked, stunned. _She's. . oh Jesus fucking Christ. Another quality Shepard moment, brought to you by being a dense cold-hearted bitch. _Trying not to think about if this was the same as deflowering, she exhaled and took a step her lip, she gently put her hand on the asari's shoulder. "Hey. Hey, look at me." She lifted Liara's chin, pushing aside the hands and looking into her eyes. "I'm an ass, and.. I just don't do well with this shit. You're trying to help me out here, and I lashed out. You don't deserve that. Let's just... start from square one."

"S-square one? I do not understand. I promised you I would not -"

Shepard's voice hardened, the ice in her soul flowing into the sound. "Liara." The asari's words tumbled to a halt, her eyes glancing up through tears at Shepard. Shepard's eyebrows came together as she frowned. "People fuck things up. God knows I have fucked up more people, more .. situations... than I can count. You helped me. My head isn't full of that .. nightmare just pounding away anymore. I can think without feeling like I'm going crazy."

Liara opened her mouth to speak, but Shepard shook her head. "Just...listen. You almost .. died. I was fucking_ stupid. _I knew the vision had killed people before and I just pulled you right into it and stood there like a moron and let you … see it. We both collapsed. If it hadn't been for that commando I met years ago showing me _viala_ techniques..." She trailed off, arching an eyebrow at the shocked, confused and .. almost panicked look on the young asari's face. "Liara?"

With obvious difficulty, the little archeologist swallowed and shook her head. "I .. the _viala _is …" She took a few steps back and collapsed into her chair. "I am not sure what I am supposed to .. say."

Shepard shrugged, not understanding her reaction, but too tired and exhausted to think about it anymore. "You made a dumb mistake, I made a dumb mistake. Humans call going back to the start of something 'going back to square one'. Doing this when we both just recovered from nearly dying and you were still weak from being trapped for days was dumb." Shepard gave a small smile. "I don't … know what you saw. But I trust you will .. not mention it to others."

Liara shook her head. "N-never, Commander. I .. " She shut her eyes and firmed her jaw. "M-maybe if .. after we have rested, and things are calmer, I could make another, more prepared attempt." Her voice was hesitant, almost tiny.

Shepard stood there for a very long moment. _Not only has she seen the beacon mindfuckery, she's seen inside my damned MIND and how fucked that is .. .and is willing to go back for more? _Uncontrollably, laughter burst out from her, and she grinned. "You're goddamned crazier than I am, Doctor, if you like mucking around in my mind. But .. sure."

Liara looked both confused and relieved. Shepard turned away. "I .. I'll talk to you some more later, I really have to get my head sorted out." She arched an eyebrow. "I'll . . have a crew meeting tomorrow... after I get some sleep. Introductions, that sort of thing." Shepard walked to the door, and Liara said "Thank you , Commander" as she left the research bay.

* * *

Liara sat still for several long minutes in semi-shock before putting her face into her hands again. _Oh, you stupid, stupid fool of a girl. No wonder Mother thinks I'm a failure, I have all the intellect of a flametree. _

She got up from the chair in the lab, crossing the tiny room to lay herself out on the small metal cot that the kind-looking marine – Alenko, she thought his name was – had dragged out of storage so she could sleep. The human commander was right to be angry about the stupidity of what they had done, but it was Liara herself who should have known better.

_Idiot! Fool! If it isn't bad enough you're basically throwing yourself at her, then you let yourself get so caught up in the idea of seeing Protheans you don't even realize you could have killed her! _Liara knew full well the dangers of the Dark Beacons, even having seen video images of what one had done to most of a research team on Menthana. She knew that if she had died from shock the neural linkage would have dragged Shepard down with her.

She stared up at the ceiling, emotions a roiling mess, unable to get images out of her head. Bad enough that she had the horrific destruction of the Protheans to stare at. Gleaming, wondrous cities smashed to flames and ruin in mere seconds, by horrifying titans of black metal , hate, and fire. Worst of all was flashes of what must have been Prothean children, huddling in fear while elders tried to fight and died alongside them.

Worse, though, was that when her control had faltered, she had a rush of memories from Shepard. It has not merely been the vision that shattered her control, but the things that erupted between the spurts of the vision.

_A grimy, dirt smeared window, out of which a tiny girl with long black unruly hair stared, while the sick, sweet smell of hallex and red sand drifted through the room. Garbage piled in the corners, insects and rats having dug homes in the effluvia of ruined lives. A dusty closet filled with a few elegant pieces of clothing. A shattered diploma , a burned military uniform. Flashes of a dark , slender black haired woman twitching in chemical ecstasy while a man with dark brown skin and hair in dreadlocks cut his name into her stomach with a razor blade, smiling as she screamed and asked for more._

_Ugly blots of bruised light as she's dragged barefoot out into the street, two sneering human thugs with folded arms standing there. A third human , smoking a ugly , stinking black cigar, gives a sneer, revealing blackened lumps instead of teeth, long scars and wrinkles twisting his face into that of a demon. "Skinny, but she'll have an ass on her." Hard, filthy hands that pinch tender nipples, and dig between her legs with all too familiar experience. "Hell, unfucked even. Nice. 50."_

_The voice that screams 'daddy' saying in cold tones , "I need 80. It's worth it. No one will miss her, I assure you."_

_The twisted , holo image of a cruel asari face, smirking. "70, Shepard, but only because you did me a favor a while back. This must be the kid."_

_A blast of pain. "Worthless bitch, another mouth to feed.70 will have to do, Thalia." Then endless parades of pain. Men and women abusing her, cramming her full of hard , throbbing organs, flaying her skin off to make her drink her own blood. The taste of unwashed, sweaty skin, the skin of musk as sex organs are thrust in her mouth until she chokes. Days blending into months, into years. Whipped and electrocuted, strapped to a stage with electrodes to force her body to respond and video to show it to cruel , hard faces. _

_Broken flashes of bloodshed, of flesh tearing apart like water, screaming, of eyes torn from skulls and bones broken. Blaring fires..._

Liara squeezed her eyes shut, the images stampeding through her head so sickening that she wanted to scream. She was blazingly angry at the idea of what she knew the human woman had gone through. She had glanced through some sites and stories on the extranet before the Commander woke up, just to get a feel for her. Another human thug, she had thought, bloodthirsty and cruel.

Liara curled into a ball on the cot, wanting to vomit. _None of them can understand. _The defilement that she had been allowed to witness was something no living being could have withstood without lingering damage. Liara understood why Shepard slaughtered pirates with such rage now, why she never betrayed those who were close to her, why she had no frame of reference to reach out to identify to others.

_All these years I have felt so sorry for myself. As if my pampered life is that hard. I could have had whatever I wanted if I had just bothered to obey Mother...and maybe if I wasn't such an idiot I could have stopped her from … this. Instead I go about my merry way on a fools errand, and people with real problems have to save me. _

She forced herself to lay back on the cot, instead of curling away from the pain. The anger, the pain, the fear...all of it was mixed up with a sick, yearning longing, which just made her angrier. _As if I could fix that, when I can't even fix myself. _She trembled, hands clenching to fists, forcing her intellect to engage, to analyze, to treat the problem like another dig site.

_First, I have to win her trust back. I know I can .. help with the vision , I just need to make sure I keep my mind focused. Not get distracted with feeling her body or her memories or … other things. And she didn't say no. I have a chance to help her mission._

She swallowed, wanting to laugh at herself. "If it was only that easy. " Forcing herself to exhale, she ticked off the list of what she had to do in her mind. She knew how to fight, to fire a gun, to take care of herself to a certain degree, but she was board a ship dedicated to hunting a Spectre, so she expected most of the people on board to be much more proficient with guns and fighting and all of those things.

Unable to sleep, she dragged her body back to the terminal, muscles screaming in protest. Nervously running her hands over her crest, she massaged away tension in her neck as she entered in a search query.

An hour later, she was still reading in horrified, sympathetic tears of the Tenth Street Massacre. Her first impulse was to rush to the Commander and comfort her, one she suppressed immediately. _She already knows I saw something...but if I tell her it was just a few images of battle fields and the like, she may .. forgive me. She would never, ever forgive me knowing about her youth. _

She read the hurtful, hateful things some humans said of her, and wanted to punch the bulkheads. She read the touching, helpless tributes to her from the people she had saved on Dirth and Terra Nova and dissolved into racking sobs. She read , and read, until she was emotionally wrung dry, quivering somewhere between needing to collapse and needing to hurl a singularity at everything and everyone.

She exhaled, swallowing. _She saved my life with the viala, the soul reaching for what it yearns for the most, the hidden wave. _Liara had been so stunned by that what it really meant had hit her in a way she didn't expect. She didn't know if the human woman knew what she had done.

She buried her face in her hands, and sat slumped in the chair until exhaustion found her once more.

* * *

Shepard sat in the captain's quarters, drinking Anderson's scotch. _Thoughtful gesture. Once again, he knows more about me than me. _She tossed back the glass, the amber liquid burning down her throat, obliterating pain and feeling.

Killing pirates and criminals was easy. Hunting down stupid, chicken-looking terrorists was hard, but probably going to be immensely satisfying. Leading small armies against certain death was painful, but survivable. Dealing with smart-ass political figures and tired old worn out admirals and generals was dicey, frustrating, and left her wishing for a couple of grenades.

Dealing with a scared, teenaged girl who happened to be the child of someone planning to , you know, help bring back civilization-murdering death machines? Not good.

She poured herself another glass of scotch, a wry smile crossing her face, and recapped the bottle. "Impossible missions are my specialty. Jesus, what the fuck am I supposed to do now." The liquor wasn't helping her thing, but it lent a pleasant heaviness to her limbs, a soothing to her nerves. She'd never been a big drinker. Socializing with fellow soldiers was not something she did. Free time was spent on the range, studying for qualifications, or learning about new ways to kill people. Once or twice she'd managed to get drug out.

The last time she'd gotten smashed, in fact, was after Torfan. When 3 bitter, angry marines had showed up at the little bar on base she had gone to drink at. She still remembered the confused hate in Jason Dunn's eyes. She drank, and remembered.

_The bar was dingy, the sort of thing that one expected from a Marine dive on a mainline colony world. Square, ugly tables, nicked and battered. A sticky, tar-black floor that met up with four cinderblock walls festooned with recruiting posters and cheap vidscreens blaring patriotic synth-pop. The smell of cheap beer and cheaper perfume from the 'party girls' that hung out in such places was ever-present, even today, when the bar was almost completely empty, except for a bored looking civilian bartender, fat and stupid, and four hard figures in wrecked BDU's in the corner. The four of them sat around the square table, Dunn staring at his hands, Jackson leaned back with his eyes closed, and Shields just meeting Shepard's gaze with equally dead eyes. _

_Dunn lifted his glass. "To my commanding officer. Let no one say Shepard is immune to the siren call of beautiful women. Who knew she didn't like men?" He drained it all at one gulp, his unshaven face twisting in pain. His brown eyes were shut, black hair hanging limply into his face, his BDU blues wrinkled and smelling of vomit and mothballs. "Give it a go, Betty."_

_Beatrice Shields's beautiful mouth sneered, as she lifted her own glass. "To the baddest bitch in the galaxy, who's too good to fuck one of us, but can fuck all of us." She slammed back a shot glass of tequila, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve, cold gray eyes now bloodshot and swollen from crying. "Why aren't we fucking killing generals right now? Oh, right, they love Shepard now. Star of fucking Terra my ass."_

_David Jackson gave a small exhalation of amusement, thin lips lifting in a soft, reverential smile. The almost delicate planes of his face gave him a childlike aura, soft baby blue eyes seemingly quiet, long blond hair cut exactly to marine specs. He lifted his glass, soft voice drifting across the table. "To Shepard, who did what she could." Those eyes snapped to hers. "We hate you, but we are yours, too. There's no point beating yourself up over this." He glanced at Beatrice, then back at Shepard. "We knew your weakness long ago. They're just like my blood lust, Beatrice hate, Dunn's rage. We're all criminals."_

_Dunn snarled. "Then why are you fucking here, Baby Blue?" Jackson's calm smile turned wry. "To make sure none of us end up killing any of the rest of us. Rai is already gone, I will not allow any more of us to .. pass." He turned back to Shepard, nodding, and Shepard raised her head to meet that calm gaze. "You did what you could, Sara. I do not hate you for being you. But even I cannot forgive you leaving us to die, for her. You said we meant something."_

_Shepard's icy stare did not lessen. "I should have saved … the unit. I know that. I..."_

_Dunn trembled. "God damn you. You aren't even fucking human, you're like some Terminator they shoved into flesh. They sent us all here to die, Sara. To DIE. They lit the fucking area up with goddamned beacons before we even punched down." He slams back another glass. "I know why you fucking think you did it. No one ever fucking loved me, blah blah." He pulled down the edge of his BDU. "3 shots to the chest. NINE in arms and legs. I tackled you out of fucking flamethrower fire, my goddamned arms are cyber thanks to you. You think I did that shit because you were my CO?"_

_He lifted the bottle and poured again. "My own goddamned sister. That's what infuriates me. You fell for my sister and you didn't even TELL me. Ask me. Say anything. First thing I know she's even HERE is she shows up on the fucking shuttle as the tactical coordinator. Had you been fucking by that point?"_

_Utterly infuriated, the big man crushes his shot glass in one massive hand, hurling shards of glass onto the floor. He clenched his fist, watching a single trickle of cybernetic lubricant seep from his fingers. "Don't answer that. Fuck."_

_Shields gaze was still fixed on Shepard. "You know what I hate? I've wanted you since I first saw your ass on Dirth. How many fucking battles did we fight together? How many times did you save my life? God, I lived for a fucking smile from you. Don't pretend you didn't know it. All this time, I think you are too banged up inside to reach out. If I'm just fucking patient, and caring, maybe I can reach you. Let you see you mean something. Just need to trust you...and then? You crawl in bed with HER!"_

_Shepard glanced away, and Beatrice's fists tightened on the table. "Look at me, bitch." Shepard gritted her teeth and met her gaze again, cold blue eyes facing steel gray. "We were set up. They sent that bitch into fucking seduce you so you wouldn't think, wouldn't catch the trap. Kyle's sons are dead. Over seventy percent of the unit is worm food. The rest are ALL fucked. They set us up the river and because you go crazy after this bitch and pursue her, after killing kids like ninepins... you get a goddamned medal and promotion."_

_The beautiful woman across from Shepard was shaking. Her black hair was matted, damp, her arms stressed. She reeked of something unpleasant. Shepard looked at the table. "I .. never knew how to say I was .. I don't know. How to .. " The voice trailed off, Shepard burying her hands in her face. "I need to die."_

_Dunn spat. "You don't GET to die, She-Bitch. No, we're here to remind you of what you did. The 5 fuckups from the 2MPL always stick together. .. except Rai's dead now, thanks to you. So's my sis, but hey, right now that's a goddamned bonus. It isn't bad enough the four eyes made us shoot our way through kids, though. Or that they had my slut of a sister – god knows how they got to HER – seduce you and distract you and convince you there was some spy, or some leak , or some SHIT and this horrible, horrible plan was just a distraction."_

_Dunn smiled, a terrible smile speaking of nothing but shattered faith. "No, when we get to that last fucking bunker, and your N7's clearly turned on your ass for trying to save HER instead of get the job done...why? WHY did you fucking kill Rai!"_

_Shepard snapped, her hand flying around Dunn's throat, literally lifting the much larger man right out of his seat. "I never had anyone love me in my fucking LIFE!" Dunn snapped his arms together in a scissoring movement, instantly breaking Shepards's grip and nearly breaking her forearm, making her howl in pain and collapse backwards. Dunn stood to his full height, glancing over at the now nervous barkeep. "Keep your fucking face shut, and you won't have a problem."_

_Shepard hissed in agony, cradling the arm he had just nearly cracked with the hydraulic power of his cybernetic limbs. "You're pretty dumb, Sara. Baby Blue could make it all sound emotional and shit, but the fuck you think we stuck around for? Cuz we hated you?" Dunn shook his head. "It doesn't matter what the fuck you tell yourself. We were your _**crew**_, and you killed one of us for a bitch who got the 2RRU killed. For what? To impress that black-ass – "_

_Before Shepard could even react in outrage, Beatrice had a knife at Dunn's throat. "Don't. I'll kill you myself, Jace. Anderson is _**not**_ a part of this fucking conversation." Dunn's eyes met Beatrice's for a long, still moment. "...just fucking angry." He jerked a thumb at Shepard. "At her."_

_Jackson exhaled again, and folded his hands calmly across the table. They were trembling very slightly, a sign of the battle rage he fought with yoga, meditation, drugs, and mindset every second to control. "Shepard, we .. can't do this any more. We aren't scared kids in the 2nd Marine Penal Legion, hiding behind you because you're the bad-ass even the snipers can't intimidate. We've had your back …since the start, and until this you never, ever betrayed us."_

_Jackson bowed his head. "But you had to know Beatrice and Dunn both loved you." Beatrice shut her eyes in agony, and Dunn just stared woodenly at the table."In fact, they both probably still do, which is worse. You .. didn't take care of us when it really, finally counted. You used us to protect her, then left us to die, and when Rai tried to stop you, then you killed him." The placid , sad blue eyes held hers. "The brass rewarded you to get .. propaganda out of this. And you let them. "_

_Shepard swallowed. "... I.. killed her."_

_There was suddenly silence at the table. Shepard couldn't look up, but her voice spilled out. It was a shaky thing, unlike the smoky, hard contralto they were all familiar with. "She.. was going to blow the remotes herself. She wasn't in league...with pirates. The pirates got paid off to be there. Rai told me that...and I thought he was lying. I .. god. I … d-didn't want to b-believe him. But then I saw her...and she .. she..."_

_The slender human woman fell to pieces, emotions she didn't even have a name for finally springing free. She tried to tear away from the three of them, stumbling back from the table, staggering outside, blinded by tears. She got maybe 15 feet before she felt arms go around her. She stopped, eyes still closed. She felt a gentle land lift her chin, and she looked up. _

_Dunn was standing there. "Don't die on me, She-Bitch." He roughly, almost cruelly kissed her, and then pushed her back, walking off, broad shoulders set and determined. Behind her, Beatrice held her right shoulder in a firm grip, and turned Shepard's face to hers, dipping as she pressed the hard curves of her body against Shepard. Her kiss was gentle, lingering, hungry … and tears spilled out of those eternally hard gray eyes as she let go. "I wanted you to love me so much. I guess I never could reach you though. Good .. luck. "_

_Shepard finally realized what was happening and collapsed to her knees , as Shields' beautiful form turned her back on her and walked out of her life. Only Jackson stood next to her, the slender form silent and still like a wraith. "I'm sorry, Shepard. But we can't … take this level of pain. You are on your own, now and forever."_

_She looked up, his outline a blur against the lights of the bar's external sign. "I... "_

_He shook his head. "Only we know what you did. And we would never betray you, despite you betraying us." The voice was gentle. "We never _**really**_ understood you. We thought you were normal, just hurt, cold, maybe a bit broken. We projected what we each needed from you. For that , I am sorry. Part of why this all went bad is that you failed us. And part is because we failed you. I know, now, that you never knew how to say what we all waited to hear."_

_Jackson's strong arms pulled her to her feet, those thin, soft lips tracing her jawline once before he pulled away. "But we're not strong enough to survive you any more. I'm sorry. And I'm not. I love you and I hate you and it's best if you move along the path in front of you and we die in the futility that has made up all our lives. Our Shepard died on Torfan. There's only the Butcher now."_

_He turned away. "Goodbye, Shepard. Like I said, don't beat yourself up over this. You learned that love hurts. Just...take better care of your next band of brothers. And develop better taste in women."_

* * *

The liquor and the years that have passed had done nothing to lessen the pain in her heart. _And here I am again. People reaching out, blind, stupid. Tali thinking I'm a shining hero. Garrus wanting me to be a vigilante badass. Williams...fucking Williams...and Joker...and now .. this. _She carefully finished her glass, before staggering to her feet and washing it out in the tiny sink in the washroom, the gun-metal colors and dim lighting of the hull a bland blur.

She peeled herself out of her uniform, letting it fall listlessly to the deck, and then her undergarments, flicking each to the ground, and lay down naked on the sheets , staring at the ceiling. _David, what the fuck do I do? _She waited a long , long time for the voice to echo in her head, but it never did, and sleep came upon her with finality, dropping her into the sweet oblivion of a sleep without dreams.


	40. Chapter 34 : All Due Caution

**A/N: **_Wrex's little incongruous tale of working for Saren and hitting a volus ship always bothered me. There was something there I felt like was missing and never followed up on, and Wrex's description of the cargo made it pretty clear he had to be looking for something else. This is the result of that line of thinking. _

* * *

January 28th , 2183 9:15 AM

The communications room filled slowly as Shepard waited patiently in the middle of the room, in her dress blues. The grey, drab floor only dimly reflected the faint light from above, most of the illumination coming from the serene blue glow from Wrex's Broker Link in the corner.

Master Sergeant Cole and Chief Williams were the first to arrive, followed immediately by Alenko, coffee cup still in hand. Garrus and Tali arrived a few minutes later, chatting about something to do with Fleet and Flotilla, until Shepard gave them a strange look and both seemed to freeze. She managed not to smile as the two sat down. Wrex arrived a minute later, along with the department heads. . . and Liara T'soni, wearing what looked like a fresh University of Serrice uniform. Shepard made a mental note of that as a state of affairs to rectify and cleared her throat.

"Status report updates. Adams?"

The engineer nodded briskly. "All systems nominal, ma'am. Had the quartermaster order some spare radiating vanes while we were at Therum – in case we have to pull that trick with head dumping them with freshwater. Armor plating is back in place – it's class 2 stock, we'll need to hit the Citadel for the class 1 stuff , but it's better than having unprotected hull. Other than that, no issues."

Shepard nodded, cold eyes going to Pressley. "Ops?"

The XO shrugged. "We're 11 minutes out from the relay, Joker reported a drift of only 1100k. The location is a good long FTL burn from here, but we have a military comm ping from a … volus military vessel. They've secured the area and are aware a Spectre is en route. Scan logs look clean, and whoever took the volus out didn't leave much evidence. Sensors are active, stealth will be ready for activation as soon as hit system and drop charge, just in case."

Shepard gave another brief nod. "Good. I'm cognizant of the volus ship, we'll be meeting them at the site and … covering the issue with the captain. Lieutenant Alenko, this operation should not require a Marine element. I want you to go ahead and pull a full inventory of our current equipment. Once you are done, I want armor measurements for every member of the Detail and our guests. I'll be firing off a request for top of the line armor across the board. Call up Armax, I want 30 suits of Predator battle armor and Crossfire rifles. There won't be any more of this under-equipped shit costing me men. Charge the Spectre account."

Alenko gave a faint smile and nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Williams looked shocked, but Cole grinned.

Shepard folded her arms. "Our .. jaunt on Therum did not unveil a great deal of useful intel, but it did provide two very important resources. First, Doctor Liara T'soni has joined us. She'll be joining our ground teams when we need to deal with Prothean information, and since the Prothean Beacon started all this, that might be quite often. She's a very powerful biotic, as most of us saw a few days back. Doctor, I neglected to ask in our last conversation, but do you have any military training?" Liara's voice was calm and collected. "My mother had me train with asari commandos for 5 years, and I am more than proficient with a pistol. I am not a soldier, but I have been fighting and using biotics for over 50 years, and I can handle myself as long as I am not expected to perform a krogan charge." Williams frowned. "Wait, 50 years? How old are you, anyway?" Liara bowed her head. "I am 106 years old." Williams eyes widened, and she whistled. "Damn, I wish I could look that good at a hundred and six." Cole snorted. "God, Ash, can't you go anywhere without flirting?"

Shepard managed to suppress a grin at the dirty look the now-furiously blushing Williams shot her fellow soldier, and continued. "Aside from Williams letting us know she's a xenophile – " Williams' hiss was drowned out by snickers from the other humans and confused looks between the four aliens "- Doctor T'soni has also aided me in deciphering the Beacon images I encountered on Eden Prime. It took a good night's sleep for it all to click, but I have a few new fact now, including a hunch about why Saren is looking for this sort of stuff."

Liara glanced at the decking, but Shepard turned to Wrex. "The Shadow Broker still can't give us any more intelligence on Saren?" Wrex grunted. "Broker can't find much of a pattern in what he's doing. And when a pyjak is too slippery for the Broker, the knives need to come out." Shepard spread her hand. "Not surprising. The Broker is looking for patterns that lead to something we can expect from a lunatic. A weapon. A goal. A vendetta. But Saren is acting on something he's seen, similar to my vision from the Beacon." She paused. "The Protheans had something they they were trying to get out with these Beacons. Saren went looking for the one on Eden Prime. That means , for whatever reasons, he's looking for more."

She paced slightly, muscles taut and tense as she ticked off points on her fingers. "One, he goes after a Prothean dig site. Two, he has his goons try to snatch a Prothean expert on the extinction, something almost no one else is studying because they're too goddamned busy trying to find new tech or weapons." Shepard's voice had taken on an irritated edge, and Liara winced, knowing that particular frustration had come from their joining. Shepard's dark glance in her direction confirmed that, but the human Commander continued.

"Three, he's buying stock like mad in a few companies. Biological research companies, mostly, the kind doing cutting edge cybernetic and genetic modification work. Four, he's snapping up mercs, guns, armor, weapons. And five, according to Tali, some of the geth we've been fighting are new designs, tailored toward planetary invasion."

Shepard stopped. "I need to confirm with the volus, but did you run that list of the ships I asked about, Wrex?"

The bulky krogan nodded. "The Broker says they were just trade ships. Food, supplies. All of them had stopped at Prothean research sites in the previous month before they were hit. Most of 'em had contracts with university research departments, but one of them had resupplied the dig on Eden Prime a few days before the attack...and it was hit less than 24 hours after it had done it's drop there."

Shepard nodded, and Garrus tilted his head. "You think Saren's hitting the ships for their manifests?"

The commander smiled. "Liara, if someone found something important about the Protheans, would it get announced publicly?" The asari scientist looked surprised at being addressed, but her voice was calm and even. "No, Commander. I am afraid most of the independent operators would immediately cease outgoing communications altogether until they could get a complete site manifest completed, and the documentation for the Citadel Council allowing them to be paid."

She nodded. "And so buying lots of food and supplies, maybe research equipment, from a private volus merchant rather than using easily placed – and easily traced – orders through their more conventional channels would be a step most would take?" Liara nodded, and Shepard gave a predatory smile. "The bastard's hunting. That means he's not ready to do whatever he's planning yet, or he hasn't found what he needs yet, and that gives us time to catch up to him. We'll find him soon enough, and then after we shoot him in the head like he did Nihlus, we'll have Wrex eat him."

The low laugh of the krogan concluded the meeting.

* * *

The volus trading vessel was a burned hulk, it's engines cleanly sheered off by some massive blow, large holes blown into the cargo pods that made up the bulk of it's length. A cloud of tumbling items drifted out behind it, as if it were bleeding. The command section was bulbous and elongated, trailing back to a slender spine to which cargo modules and crew quarters were attached, with the wreckage of the engines at the far end.

The volus warship next to it was built along the same lines, with a trace of turian design and fear writ large in every line of the ship. The cruiser bristled with defenses and oversized engines, not counting the absolutely terrifying array of AM missile pods that lined the swept forward wings to either side of the central spine of the ship. Joker kept his distance from the vessel, bringing them alongside at a respectable range.

"Wow, whoever said volus were wimps did not get a good look at their ships, Commander. These people are not fucking around." Joker's voice was wry. "They have aft-firing missiles. What kind of crazy is that?"

Shepard shrugged. "The smart kind, Flight Lieutenant. You can never have too many guns. Patch me through.

Joker tapped a console and a viewscreen flared to holographic life next to her. The image on the screen was a volus military officer. The suit he wore looked nothing like the average, waddling figures of polite ineptitude. The lines were hard, straight, and gave the volus much less fat-looking rounded bulk and more of a squat , blocky look. "Adeptus Maran, of the VDF _All Due Caution_. The Marshal is ready to meet you on the derelict, Earth-clan. Dock at position 34."

Shepard nodded. "Full environment gear?"

The volus officer tapped a control out of sight on the holoscreen. "Affirmative. Remaining atmospheric conditions are set for us Irune-clan, not aliens. _All Due Caution,_out." The communication cut out, and Shepard sighed. "So much for getting all dressed up." She turned away, to replace dress blues with her hard suit, and her voice was tired as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Joker, take us in, slowly."

* * *

Shepard stepped from the airlock into the volus merchant ship's own airlock, noting the splotches of dark green blood spattered about. Garrus eyed them curiously, his helmet rendering his features as nothing but a flat, black plate. Tali brought up the rear, nervously looking around.

The airlock cycled, and standing before them was yet another military volus. This one stood perhaps all of 4 and a half feet, but his military-style pressure suit gave him an almost impressive mien. Conventional volus suits were rounded and bulbous, not only because most Volus tended towards that shape but because maintaining pressure in a rounded surface was easier and safer than in angular shapes and joints.

But this volus was not wearing cheap civilian suits. The finish to his battle armor was a glossy black, trimmed in a cold red color, and the angles were .. strange. The chest was almost an inverted triangle, wide at the hips and narrowing towards the head, broken up by heavy and wide shoulder plates over surprisingly thick upper arms. The volus stood on stubby but wide set legs, which actually seemed muscular if the outlines of the black under-suit were any indication. A belt of some kind of grenades crossed his rather wide torso, but he hardly looked comical.

Shepard had never , ever expected to be impressed by a volus, but she had to admit this one looked pretty badass, an image completed by the fact that the volus's right arm supported a set of what looked like 3 light mass accelerators hooked to a heavy pack linked by a series of hoses. The volus's mask was like that of a normal civilian volus, but had heavier plating and a multifunction scanner instead of a right eyepiece, and the long chops that hung down on either side of the speaker were marked with stripes – rank stripes, she presumed.

She straightened. "Commander Shepard, Office of Special Recon and Tactics."

The volus squared his stance even more. "Marshal Vidon Marr, Volus Defense Force. The Vol Protectorate is always happy to .. comply … with the wishes of the council." Shepard arched an eyebrow he spoke. Not only was his voice a deeper, harsher register than most volus, there was no rasp of respiration between words. "Our purpose here is simple, to identify the criminals murdering Irune-clan ships."

Shepard nodded. "My companions are here to assist with that. Detective Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec Special Operations, is here to provide forensic and police procedural support. And Tali'Zorah nar Rayya is a Council recognized expert on the geth, including data retrieval."

Marshal Vidon gestured to the corridor behind him, and they began walking. "You suspect the geth in this, then, Earth-clan? A curious culprit. These ships have all been independent merchants, not even associated with a trading company. None have worked the same trade routes and none even comes close to the Perseus Veil. We suspected pirates, but nothing of value is ever taken."

Shepard nodded, as they rounded a corner. The volus ship interior was smooth and organic, bulkheads set off by little lounges and everything felt very .. smooth. They approached a pressure door, which the volus officer opened, revealing another compartment, a long cargo bay. Aside of being full of crates and boxes of goods, this one was also full of battle wreckage and far too many dark greens stains on the floor. A gaping hole replaced one of the walls, the yawning gulf of space held back only by a kinetic force shield. "And I did not expect geth to act with such savagery."

Tali glanced around, and found scorch marks on the walls almost immediately. "At least some of the attackers were geth. Those were plasma dart impacts. The fire patterns are definitely geth, Commander."

Garrus, on the other hand, was kneeling down next to a tattered form in a deflated suit. "So , part of this vessel is pressurized, and the rest isn't? They hit this place with explosives, not direct mass accelerator fire. The hole is too large and messy for anything else but explosives." Garrus traced a hard-suited talon over the peeled back edges of the blast. "That doesn't sound very … gethy? Is that a word? They could have just boarded through one of the airlocks after they smashed the engines, it's not like this thing had any defenses..but they took the time to hole and take out everybody in the non-pressurized sections, why?"

Tali tilted her head. "Geth wouldn't be affected by vacuum. . . but . . . neither would pressure suited volus."

The Marshal's left arm pointed to the airlocked large door on the far side of the cargo bay. "Yes, Detective. The cargo bays and the engine room, as well as the loading areas, were left open to neutral atmospheres, so that other races could work in shirtsleeves aboard the ship. The command decks, crews quarters, mess, and other ship's amenities were located center-line or in the command pod, which are indeed pressurized to the standards of Irune itself."

Shepard nodded slowly. "It's not about the atmosphere. A suited volus could have survived. They wanted to make sure no one did. So they holed everything where someone would have been suited up...mm. " Shepard turned to the Marshal. "You did say the crew areas were pressurized, right? Let's head on to the bridge, but I suspect they did something to the atmosphere in the living area as well."

The Marshal took the lead, and Shepard finally gave into her curiosity. "I always thought the volus were, well, non-aggressive. I knew the VDF existed, but .. Alliance intel seems to rate it as a few frigates."

The volus marshal gave a laugh. "They are not far wrong in some ways, although very far off in others. The Vol Protectorate is .. bitterly aware of the fact that our standing with Council races is lessened because of our distinct lack of military might. The logical conclusion is that , if we ever want to chart our own path through the politics of Council Space, we need to change this perception. Otherwise, we'll simply be the tools of the turians for all time."

Garrus grunted. "The Turian Hierarchy has always respected the rights and abilities of your people-"

The volus gave a dark sounding laugh. "And tell me, Palaven-clan. Am I supposed to believe the turian mindset values the pursuit of money as much as it does glory or duty? Does the Hierarchy support us to see us rival them one day, or to profit from our skills? Does the average turian see the average member of my species as their equals, or as their subordinates? Do you?"

Garrus said nothing, then sighed and shook his helmeted head. "I.. no. Most of us.. do not."

The volus opened two series of airlocks, passing the team through into the pressurized area of the ship. The atmosphere took on smoky green overtones, tinged with yellow, and the corridors became slightly smaller. "I am not offended, Detective. Your honesty is bracing. But the ugly reality is that unless and until the Vol Protectorate provides a military force capable of .. handling issues that threaten Citadel Space...then we will not advance. We are a net drain on military resource, not a positive."

The marshal paused, then uttered a word Shepard suspected was a curse. "Your suspicion was correct, commander. The atmosphere is .. .tainted. Not enough to kill instantly, but no one would have survived more than an hour or so."

The volus moved along smoothly, pausing to glance at a status reading, something to do with the atmosphere, copying it to his omni-tool. "The Vol Protectorate would love to alter this perception, this idea that we are .. .weak. The .. problem is that we Irune-clan simply do not solve our problems through violence. Our word for 'war' is more about a bidding or economic conflict, or at best espionage. Throughout history, only a few of my race have demonstrated an aptitude or clear understanding for violence. The average Irune-clan is not cut out for violent combat against other races. We are too dependent on pressure suits and atmosphere, we are by nature slow moving and slow reacting, and worst of all, we had no predator species on our planet to develop the kind of .. instincts that are needed to fight."

The marshal bypassed a door printed with volus script in bright white letters that were hard angles and swirls. "The Vol Protectorate thus trains a few of us from birth to attempt to .. change this. Genetic mods, cybernetic enhancement, and conditioning. Few who are put through the program actually grasp the needed mindset , but those of us who do are given a new name, and a new clan identify – Those who Profit from Blood. We are few but .. we are the future of our society."

Shepard nodded her head. "Cold, but efficient." The marshal gave a shrug, the heavy shoulder plates shifting up and down. "That could be the motto of my people, Earth-clan. The turians have a most excellent saying – 'he who does not defend his eyrie blames others for his own weakness'. I tend to agree with that .. sentiment." The marshal pauses, glancing at the doorway ahead. Green bloodstains have dribbled across the floor under the seal. "...and scenes like this are why I am proud to defend my people, and angry when I have failed as I have here."

The next few minutes on the way to the bridge was an abattoir in green. The corridors were full of bodies that were shot to pieces. Some had been murdered so violently that the entire area around the corpse was liberally pattered round with bits of flesh. Blood was spattered in long gory trails and in splatters that spoke all too clearly of bodies smashed into walls. The blood was omnipresent, drenching the occasional console or pooled in dried, flaking sheets on the decking. The walls spoke mute testimony to how much firepower had been flung around, almost mindlessly. One volus had been left impaled to the wall by shards of broken equipment, the spikes of metal rammed in with such force that the volus's legs had been snapped cleanly off at the kneecaps from the impact. Jets of spraying blood must have misted the air like rain , literally every inch of decking was befouled.

Shepard now knew what volus looked like under their suits. Stocky and heavily muscled, but rotund around the hips, like tiny sumo wrestlers with poor posture. Their heads bubbled from shoulders without necks, the face little more than two cavernous eyes set in a dark, bony ridge across the face. Strips of flesh with slits between seemed to serve as nose and mouth, the head covered in fine, almost downy hair that spiraled.

The volus marshal opened the next door, and then just stood there for long moments, clearly in shock, before covering his eyes with his left hand, cursing thickly in phrases that did not translate. The three edged around him before stopping as well, Shepard taking a deep breath as Tali buried her faceplate in Shepard's shoulder.

More than 20 bodies , or bits of bodies, were flung about the deck, many of them having been shot multiple times, some broken in half, others set on fire, still others with arms and legs pulled from sockets. Shepard had seen krogan carnage enough times to recognize their brand of violence , to read it in the bodies and the pained postures of the broken poor civilians on the floor, but this was extreme even for the most savage krogan mercenary. Tali sobbed quietly, cringed away from the blood and the gore, almost clinging to Shepard's' arm. It was a slightly strange feeling, but the Commander put on a confident body stance, head held high, and let the girl maintain contact with her arm.

Garrus was scanning, the blank flat surface of his helmet often shaking in regret. "This is the most savage and unneeded violence I've ever seen, and I've put away child slavers. Why would anyone do this?" Even his hardened voice had a trembling note to it.

Shepard exhaled, feeling her hair matted down from the helmet she wore. "Looks like krogan work to me, and young krogan at that,violent, sloppy, exulting in their strength and power." They rounded the corner to the bridge and stopped. Familiar splashes of dried white fluid formed an ugly spatter around the discolored impacts of some heavy weapon against the far wall. "And the geth came along for the ride, at least one." Tali's voice was vindictive. "At least the poor volus got one of the geth bosh'tets."

The Marshal crossed to a broken figure laying on the ground, still cradling a heavy pistol. The volus had on some kind of uniform, but it was so ruined by blood and bits of flesh that Shepard couldn't even tell what color it had been. The right arm had been so savagely torn out of the socket that strips of flesh and strands of arteries were hanging limp and dry from the socket, and it looked as if the selfsame arm had been used to crush the volus' head before he was shot dozens of times. The man's face was gone, a krogan boot print splattered on the ground in green blood. "This is...was...Captain Niham. Former VDF. I always said following the credits would get you killed, old _uru_." The last word didn't translate for Shepard, but the sound of grief in the officer's voice was clear. "Even animals would not do this to a sentient being."

Shepard glanced around. "I assume the bridge is just ahead?"

Marshal Vidon stood, voice heavy with anger and regret. "Yes, Earth-clan." He walked to the door and placed his hand on a hexagonal pillar next to the door, which illuminated a pale green. Something in his omni-tool glowed back and the doors hissed open.

Compared to the vicious, cruel savagery outside, the bridge was pristine. Only one body littered the floor, shot cleanly in the head. The computers were still running, and Shepard gestured. "Tali, please link the computers to Pressley's ops team."

The marshal walked to the other side of the room, and tapped a few controls. "Someone accessed the captains logs and the inventory manifest. Interesting." A few more taps and a grating voice sounded, free of the rasping inhalations or the mechanical edge Shepard was used to. She realized whoever had recorded this had done so with no suit on.

"_Una, 5 4049." _The volus stopped the playback. "That's our date system. Roughly … 8 days ago, Earth-clan." The voice sounded again. _"Finally got free of that profit sink that was the Mindoir contract. Earth-clan colonies pop up like mushrooms, but they rarely buy anything but the basics. It's so tedious, I wonder if I should have stayed in the VDF, trading wealth for excitement. Bah. _

_Things are looking up , though. We got a blind-bid request for food and a very strange set of supplies from another Earth-clan colony named Feros. Some of it's standard stuff, lights , batteries, computers. Some is bizarre – high efficiency air filters, UV air sterilizers, prepackaged foodstuffs that are completely sealed and sterliziable, even quarian-strength system purgatives. Buying this will set me back all of the Mindoir account profits (such as they are) but should recoup me five times the cash._

_Una, 9 4049. The situation on Feros is **beyond** bizarre. It's some old Prothean colony, a jumble of ruins and towers and scrap. How Exogeni plans to make a credit of profit is utterly beyond me, but Earth-clan are crafty. They wouldn't let us land at the colony at all, oddly enough. Instead we docked high above the cloud layer at a special Exogeni dock. _

_Getting additional manifest requests from the Exogeni people was utterly strange. ALL of them wore complete full body suits with air filtration. They explained it had something to do with an outbreak of disease or some patient lie at which I just agreed with, but I have been on quarantine worlds. The filters and purgatives are for distinct air agents – spores, maybe. Not germs. _

_It doesn't matter. They also need a large amount of cohesive pattern explosives. There is only one reason for that, and that would be excavation. It's probably some Prothean gadget they've found, so I think I'll try to lock in a full contract. While I wait, I'll see about contacting my usual contacts for the explosives."_

_Una, 10 4049_

_The Earth-clan colony of Eden Prime was attacked, nearly destroyed by geth. I never really expected t hear about it, but I remember that Miroah just got a big contract from there a few weeks back , something about an archeological dig. It came in blind-bid too. Funny. _

_Course, some pirate blew Miroah out of the sky a week ago, I'm just now finding out. Blasted Citadel News is always late. _

_Nothing for it now, though. Miroah was too cocky and probably involved in something he shouldn't have been. I'm sticking to supplying small runs and specialty goods, rather than trying to make a killing on splashing my ships throughout Council space. And this Feros job will be perfect. Of course, the only person who I can get that kind of explosive from is that crazy Sur'kesh-clan, Githmol, but at least his prices are reasonable._

_Now , where to find what the Earth-clan called "HEPA filters"..._

_Una, 11 4049_

_I'm getting nervous. Githmol said he'd meet us here, en route to Feros, but he's fifteen minutes late, and Sur'kesh-clan are never late. I'm probably paranoid, but I had Kilan bring up our kinetic barriers, just in case. My ship may not have guns, but our engines will … _

_Oh, Plenix, no. All hands! Battle stations , prepa- _

The log cut out with sudden, terrifying finality. The Marshal tapped another button, and the ships manifest pulled up. Foodstuffs and MRE's, digging equipment, lots and lots of air filtration equipment, medicine... "No weapons. Nothing expensive. Even the explosives he's talking about aren't worth...this.. nightmare."The volus's voice was flat, angry.

Shepard nodded, tapping her comm link. "Pressley, anything on the nav logs?"

Pressley's voice sounded in her ear, somewhat tense, and she patched it through to her omni-tool so everyone could hear. "Still working ma'am. But I can confirm the ship last visited Feros on the 24th and it looks like...they transitioned straight here. I don't have transceiver codes for the attackers, those were wiped...aha. Ma'am, they were clean with the data, they made sure no evidence of who hit them was in place. But I do have the transceiver code for the salarian ship they were supposed to meet with here."

Shepard grinned behind the silver and black helmet. "Very good work, Pressley, keep at it." She turned back to the volus marshal. "Marshal, based on what I'm seeing, the only possible answer is that this .. Githmol … is feeding intelligence on volus supply ships to Prothean digs to Saren and the geth. We know Saren has employed both geth and krogan, and that he's been .. encroaching on weapons markets for months."

The volus marshal clenched a fist. "And what does he get from such open slaughter of my people, Earth-clan? Why attack these ships so violently , just for manifests and logs?"

Garrus spoke up. "He's covering his tracks. We have no other way to figure out where he'll hit next or what he's looking for, but we know it's related to the Protheans...and he had his eye on Feros. We should probably head there, maybe we can head him off."

Pressley spoke up. "Ma'am, what about the salarian ship? We need to know if they were the ones who sold the volus out, or if they just got caught up in this event."

The Marshal turned to face Shepard. "Commander, our path is clear. You have one of your own colonies to investigate. The _All Due Caution _will go after this .. Sur'kesh-clan thing that may have sold my people out to die. If he is guilty, he will be appropriately .. dealt with." The wide fist clenched, the gesture looking almost comical for a moment until the heavy barrels on the forearm gleamed. "We will meet you at your Feros colony once we have completed our work. I have VDF recovery ships on the way here, to .. recover and honor the dead. We will forward you anything we find, Earth-clan."

Shepard nodded. "That's all I can ask, Marshal Vidan. We'll keep you appraised as well. And if we find the ones who did this, I'll make sure to take them apart just as painfully."

Marshal Vidan looked at her a long moment, then bowed. "The average member of my species would see such an act as a pointless waste of time, and unprofitable. For me, however... yes. That would be extremely gratifying. I will relay my report back to Irune...and I hope you meet you again with better news, Commander."

Shepard nodded again, and tapped her comm-link. "Joker, pick us up and then set course for Feros, full FTL. Get Alenko up and have his team get hot, if this is another Eden Prime situation we're going to need to go in loaded for bear."

Joker's cheery voice came back. "All over it, Commander. ETA to Feros is about 9 hours. It will be 3 hours before we get back into the trade lane enough to sync up with an FTL buoy to report to the Council, that cool?"

Shepard sighed. "I suppose so, Flight Lieutenant. I'm sure talking to the Council about this mess will be absolutely fascinating." She glanced at Tali and Garrus. "Come on, I need a goddamned shower after this."


	41. Chapter 35 : Council Report I

**A/N: "**_Air quotes and angst" would have also made a nice title for this story. _

* * *

January 28th , 2183 1:15 PM

"Hitting the relay in 3...2...1..."

The Normandy burst free of the mass corridor, her hull alive with electric blue snakes of frustrated static charge. Joker yawned and casually tapped his controls before smirking at Shepard standing behind him. "Drift is 1200k. Why do you even hang out up here for the jumps, anyway?"

Shepard quirked her lips into a grin. "Maybe I like watching the best, Joker. I've.. never seen anyone as good at the thing they do as I am at what I do. " Her voice darkened, becoming bitter. "Of course, they treated you like shit too, but..."

Joker flexed his hands , then laid in a course , aiming the frigate for the trade lane , the line of sight for FTL communications to go from buffered to real-time. "Well, I didn't really give a shit, to be honest. I mean, yeah, it sucked. But I was focused on what was important to me. Watching my family see me as the best, having that admiral that told me I'd wash out have to eat crow and promote me, it was all... totally worth it." The young pilot scratched his chin and gazed up at Shepard. "But I'm not stupid enough to compare what I went through to what you did."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Most people are all to quick to assume they can understand me." Joker snorted, and Shepard sat down in the sensor station seat next to him, black hair shading her face, the eyes cool but not icy.

Joker glanced away, focusing on piloting the ship. _Jesus fuck, does she even realize what she does to guys when she gives them that look? Keep it cool, think about capital punishment, do NOT comment on her ass. _He coughed, bringing down a system map with a casual, downward pull of his right hand, wincing as that hurt a little. "Well, most people are dicks, boss. I don't mean , you know, they don't think before they speak. I mean actual, worthless non-thinking asshats. They treat anything different like crap because they're so convinced their own little worlds are the only thing that count."

The pilot finger tapped his way through a few menus, bringing up a comms strength map. Adjusting course a few degrees, he then turned to face Shepard fully. "Once I realized most of 'em don't have the first clue about what life is really like for most people, it stopped mattering so much. I have friends, now. Not a lot, but they're loyal. Couple of girlfriends. And .. " He shrugged, rubbing his beard almost sheepishly.

Shepard exhaled. "I had friends once and didn't even know it. How stupid is that?" Joker said nothing, hanging his head a bit. Shepard went on. "There comes a time when everyone expects the impossible from you, and gives you nothing to work with. You did that , being first in your class. You were confident you could do it. But when you get told to do the impossible again, and again, and again, you end up questioning the whole reason you're around."

Joker sniffed. "Which at that point you remind yourself that you're so badass that krogan piss themselves seeing you, and keep stepping." Shepard grinned, shaking her head. "That .. was a one time thing, really. I'd already killed that krogan's battlemaster with a knife, and he wasn't expecting to see me again." She shrugged. "It gets to be very, very old. People's expectations. People's fear. The .. lack of knowing what to do to stop the shit."

Joker smirked. "So does moving around with broken bones." He gestured to the crutches that were a necessity to move, neatly hung on the wall. "There's types of people who think it's .. good.. to try to put broken people back together. Girls tell me I have such sweet green eyes, and it's so sad I have to go through all this pain, blah blah...without even thinking about how being made helpless and dependent makes you feel."

Shepard nodded, then tilted her head at Joker. "And that bothers you? I guess I never really ran into that much. Anderson never wanted to fix me so much as.. show me I didn't need fixing exactly. Fuck if I know why."

Joker shrugged. "Anderson knew me for a few days, and in ten minutes had me pegged, ma'am. He told me I could pretend to be a smartass all I wanted, but he would respect me for a pilot and I didn't need to pretend what I was going through wasn't the main reason I was such a badass pilot."

Shepard frowned. "Isn't that … obvious?"

Joker laughed, teeth gleaming from the haptic interface in front of him. "Hell no! Not for... well, most people." He jabbed at control almost angrily, but his face was still amused. "Nah, most people want to be able to stick people in buckets. Oh, he's got brittle bones, poor thing, I'd better take care of him – or he's worthless and sickly, better not get to close in case I have to help him. The fact that I pilot well is.. an afterthought. Like a really hot woman with a banging body who happens to have a PHD in non-linear astrophysics from Harvard."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "That sounds like a male conceit, there, Flight Lieutenant." Joker shrugged. "Not really. I think men and women have different . .um, zones of focus. Chicks want to heal something and feel like they have a connection. Guys want shit cut and dry and most of us only think about how things feel after we're sure the fish is hooked."

Shepard gave him a droll look, and the young man gave a sheepish look. "Just sayin'. No need to detach my spine." She nodded. "How much longer until transmit range?" Joker shrugged. "Another... 5 minutes?" Shepard glanced over her shoulder, finding the corridor clear, then nodded. "Alright then. What am I doing wrong? How is my focus off? On the crew, the … people."

Joker gave her a frown. "I'm not exactly a, uh, people person?"

Shepard shrugged. "Maybe that's why I can ask. You , at least, sort of understand. That means I can talk to you and not worry you'll take me saying things the wrong way."

Joker's face was serious for several long seconds, hands absently tapping the controls, then he shrugged, green eyes flicking up to meet hers. "Honestly? Shepard you are always going to scare the shit out of people until you .. stop needing to scare the shit out of people to keep them away. I did that with sarcasm and being focused. Never let anyone close because that just got me hurt. But it didn't fix anything. It let me do my job...and it kept me only doing my job. Which was fine, as long as my job was flight school. But after? What's the point of busting your ass if you can't enjoy it?"

Joker sighed. "I had to let it go a bit. And it didn't really hurt that much. Some things still do. Women mostly pity me. Guys treat me like I'll break around harsh language. But I'm still the best at what I do even if sometimes it gets to me, because sometimes I make a friend, like Alenko, like Jackson, like Pressley. Makes up for it all."

Shepard nodded. "It sounds very easy, but it isn't. But I'll think about it." She stood, a lithe motion that left her moving aft even as she rose. "Patch the comms relay back to the Communications Room, Joker. Have Liara meet me there. "

"Aye aye, ma'am." He watched her stride off, that swaying walk that felt so .. animalistic. _And hot. Daayum. _Tapping a few controls, he maneuvered the ship into the main FTL lane and brought her to a full stop. "Doctor T'soni, please report to the CIC Communications Room."

* * *

Liara's breath was too fast as she entered the comms room, the gray space feeling all too exposed. She bit her lip, straightening her uniform, the bright white cloth a bit more clingy than she preferred, and made an effort to calm herself. Shepard stood in the middle of the room, arms folded almost arrogantly, one leg out at an angle, leaving her standing almost lopsided. "Glad you could join me. Time to talk to the Council."

Liara said nothing, swallowing and standing next to Shepard, trying not to fidget. Shepard sighed, but reached a hand out to Liara's forearm. "Just relax, okay? I'm not letting them arrest you or go at you like a criminal." Her lips moved into something like a smile. "The one benefit of what happened last night is that I can be 100% sure you are not involved in anything beyond digging around in pits."

Liara's face fell a little, knowing that Shepard was just teasing her, but the truth in the comment cut deeper than she expected. "I .. will try to ensure I am an asset to your team, Commander. I can do more than just archeology if you let me prove myself. I just – "

Shepard frowned, turning to face her fully. "Let's drop the stiff upper lip crap, okay? Like I said, not good at this. But do you think I'm gonna throw you off the ship or something? Like I said, it was a mutual fuck up , and now we move on." The hand on her arm squeezed. "I still haven't processed all … this shit. But I will, sooner or later. For now, through, you have a place on the team to get Saren and … figure out what your mother's involvement is. Alright?"

Liara exhaled. "I trust you completely , Shepard. I am just not handling all of this well. I.. the vision was bad enough, but you already know the .. .rest. I am not sure you want me here , even if it is, as you say, not entirely my fault."

Shepard glanced away, and sighed. "We're waiting until _now _to have this conversation? Fine. If I didn't want you here, Liara, I'd be setting course for the Citadel. I am not setting course for the Citadel. I don't need you feeling sorry for yourself _or _me. I don't need you telling yourself you're a liability either. You know what I need? I need you fully functional, and I probably need to get all this out in the open. I need an honest answer, here, Liara. How much did you see?"

Liara was silent for several seconds. Shepard finally spoke. "I remember a beautiful blue and silver garden, on an ocean of pale blue like no water I remember. Trees that looked like they were on white fire. A beautiful woman in a yellow dress with a laugh ..I never had a mother, Liara. Seeing a lot of what makes you .. you .. is why I trust you, now. But I need truth."

Liara buried her face in her hands, and exhaled in a shuddering breath. "I... saw everything." She felt Shepard's hand fall from her arm, but just kept speaking. "Your .. Goddess, I cannot call them parents. How you were sold. _Used." _The asari looked up with shattered, blasted blue eyes. "I saw .. Torfan. And your old .. crew. And how they abandoned you when you needed them most."

Shepard's face was completely dead calm, and she stepped closer, her voice was icy. "I don't want – "

Liara pushed the human woman back. "I know you do not want to talk about Torfan! You don't want to talk about it because you blame yourself. They were **wrong. **They did not see and did not know! By the Goddess I have no idea how you have not simply killed everything that you encounter!" The little asari scientist's eyes were blazing with anger , her stance predatory...and Shepard realized it was as if she was looking at herself. She met that blue gaze evenly, for long moments, before her own eyes closed, and she sagged for a long moment

Shepard began shaking her head. "Sometimes I wish I could. But... that's not what this is about. What I went through is .. not the human norm. Everyone responsible for it is , I assure you, quite fucking dead. The sellers. The buyers. The ringleaders. My parents. The person behind it all. Even their kids." The cold eyes flicked back to Liara's. "I made very fucking sure my past was dead. As far as Torfan is concerned, it's a wound to the entire way I looked at my service. It's one I haven't recovered from yet. I want to blame the Alliance but I blame myself most of all. And it has nothing to do with anyone else."

Shepard stood closer, staring down. "What matters right now is that Saren is planning to do a lot worse things to the entire goddamned galaxy. That's what I have to focus on . That is where my anger is, my rage. And that is what I am going to deal with. Everything else just gets in the way."

Liara balled her fists. "I..." She exhaled , and unclenched her hands. "I am simply not .. used to having to deal with memories... especially alien ones. It will pass as it fades." Shepard shook her head. "Will this shit ever fade?" Liara's chest was still heaving, but she nodded. "Without further .. reinforcement, it will.. fade very soon. By this time next week you may be able to pull out a few recent memories. The..." she stumbled over her words. "... um,method is usually more.. er, permanent?" The doctor flushed and turned her gaze away.

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Whatever. But that shit goes both ways. I know what you went through. And what it means. I know you spent your whole life on something important, and it feels wasted. I know your mom is even worse than the bitch who bore me. It means you never knew a fucking thing about Saren or geth, and were just minding your own business. It means that you have no clue why the Matriarch is acting bat-shit insane. That means you are not going to have to worry about anything in this conversation with the Council, or about being put off this ship."

Shepard frowned. "Although if Sparatus pisses me off enough , you may have to worry about putting a chair through the vidscreen. "

Liara nods, making an effort to calm down, and Shepard turned on the comm link. An image of the Citadel Tower appeared, three circles representing Sur'Kesh, Palaven and Thessia at the bottom, before the vid link cleared and the Council's holograms appeared.

Sparatus appeared to be wearing long white robes with a breastplate of some kind, reclining in a seat. Tevos wore a rather daring gown with almost scandalous cleavage and layers of semi-transparent silky material as it's primary features, with a dark blue cowl thrown over her shoulders. Valern had his hood thrown back, his robe a somber blue with gold trim, and was also seated, a glass in his hand. "Hello, Spectre Shepard. We are not in session currently, so we are doing a coordinated link from our homes. I trust the mission so far is going well?"

Shepard stood at firm attention, features cold and still. "Yes, Councilors. We have retrieved Doctor T'soni from the colony of Therum, where we encountered and destroyed a large amount of geth forces sent to abduct her. My geth specialist has forwarded at tactical and technical report on what we found to the Council … and the Migrant Fleet, in hopes of obtaining additional intelligence. We also forwarded the initial mission report..but you said you needed additional information."

Sparatus nodded. "The report was .. adequate. It did not answer a few outstanding questions, such as why the geth were after T'soni, and what her part is in this. And, of course, your trip to the volus merchant ship."

Shepard nodded. "Liara appears to have been unaware of her mother's intentions, or her involvement with Saren beyond their personal relationship. When we arrived the Doctor was under direct assault by geth as well as a krogan, and was nearly killed in the battle, managing to take down a geth armature to save the lives of the recovery team. Subsequent … interrogation has assured me that she had no role in this plot."

Sparatus snorted. "And you are an expert at interrogation, Shepard?" Before Shepard could speak, Valern sighed. "Actually, yes she is, Tarren, as you well know from reviewing her military record. That is not the operant question at hand." The salarian turned dark eyes to Shepard. "Asari are resistant to interrogation , and –"

Shepard interrupted. "Pardon me, but I believe my statement stands. She risked her life – twice, actually , once saving us from the geth, and again later to aid me in understanding the vision from the Prothean Beacon. Her role in this mess is likely one of resource, as Saren would need such an expert to aid him in finding what he's after. . . or the geth were there to silence her, to make sure no one could figure out what Saren is up to."

Tevos gave Shepard a very piercing look. "Commander, I trust your judgment on this is not … affected by any other factors?" Valern and Sparatus looked puzzled, but Shepard's eyes narrowed angrily. "No, madam. I do not feel that my judgment in this is impaired in any way. But if you feel the need to question her, she is here in the comm room."

Sparatus frowned. "She should be taken into custody and remanded to C-Sec, implicated or not. There are legal issues about -"

Shepard sighed, folding her arms. "Perhaps I was unclear, Councilor. I need her for my mission to stop Saren. Without her, I have no way to understand what the hell I'm looking for, because it's tied up with whatever killed the Protheans, and she's the only one bothering to research that." Tevos nodded. "I can understand that logic, but she is a child, Commander."

Shepard's fists tightened. "She is _not _a child, Councilor, not even by your standards. I find it darkly amusing that asari young people are mature if they're shaking their asses in a club or shooting people up in Eclipse gangs but are immature if they're conducting serious scientific research. Children do not write 5 books, two of which are the only works known on the Exodus-period ruins like the ones on Eden Prime. Children do not write 27 papers, or recover over 400 artifacts."

Tevos gave a small smile. "I wasn't aware you were so intimately familiar with her research ,Commander." Shepard snarled. "I do my homework, Councilors. Otherwise, I'm dealing with an unknown. The point is that I have an advantage with her on my team, and quite frankly, after the mess that happened on the Citadel earlier, she's safer here than there."

Sparatus looked incensed. "The value of such 'safety'", he mocked, putting the word in air-quotes, "is rather dubious if you're going into contested war-zones filled with pirates and geth. But we would still speak with her." Shepard sighed and stepped to one side, motioning Liara to step forward. She did so hesitantly, keenly aware she was speaking to the rulers of known space. Nervously, she took a breath. "Good afternoon, Councilors."

Tevos was observing her closely, as was Valern. The salarian spoke first. "Commander Shepard vouches for your .. good intent. Your mother's actions, however, are of such a staggering scale of evil that we cannot be too careful. If the records we have are correct and the evidence of what they plan is true, your mother is trying to bring back the forces that destroyed the Prothean Empire. And you are her inheritor and only child. You know nothing at all about this?"

Liara exhaled "I do not , councilors. My focus for the last 50 years has been the study of the Prothean extinction, a topic that until about 5 years ago she disdained to even speak to me about. We have not spoken cordially or in person to one another for over 15 years, and even when we did, her own plans and goals were kept to herself. She did not feel I showed the proper focus of the child of an asari matriarch."

Sparatus flicked a mandible in irritation. "Then why send geth after you?"

Liara gave a small shrug. "She must feel that I am a danger to her. Her messages .. changed , becoming increasingly cold and strange a few years ago. She seemed less like my mother and more like someone else entirely. But I was , I am afraid, already estranged from her at that point." Valern shook his head. "Years ago. How long has this monstrous plot been going on?"

Liara glanced at Shepard, unsure of how to answer, and the Commander stepped up. "That's what I'm worried about, Councilors. We have no clue what Benezia or Saren are planning beyond the outlines, but it's big. The fact that a woman would try to kill her own daughter, though, means she's gone beyond any hope of … redemption."

Tevos shook her head, a disturbed look on her face. "We can't be sure of that. We don't know what Benezia's intentions might have been." Sparatus made a slashing, negating motion with his talons, sitting forward in his chair. "No, Tevos. We clearly don't understand Benezia at all. We never would have expected her to become a traitor, and we cannot assume that she's above killing her daughter." Sparatus gave a clearly disgusted sigh. "Commander, I think it's best if Doctor T'soni be kept under your … supervision. I understand that your personal opinion is that she's not a threat...but we cannot afford to take any more risks."

Shepard nodded. "Thank you. I assure you I have no problems with keeping her close by." Shepard winced internally at how that must have sounded, the pitifully grateful expression on Liara's was almost as bad as the knowing smirk on that of the asari councilor. _For fucks sake, she must think I'm sleeping with her. _Shepard glared back, and lifted her chin. "The volus ship also provided us more useful clues, Councilors. We rendezvoused with the VDF _All Due Caution_ and investigated the ship. I am sending video imagery and our report, but it is … well, disturbing and gory."

The councilors brought up the report, and Shepard watched each one of their reactions. As she suspected, neither Valern or Sparatus turned green – or the alien equivalent – at the gory scenes, although Sparatus did flicker his mandibles in agitation once, and Valern paused to take a very long sip of his drink. Tevos, on the other hand, was visibly shaken and obviously revolted, shutting the images off a few minutes into reviewing them. "Commander, that was..."

Shepard inhaled. "Ma'am, as you know I've been party to some truly brutal events, fighting against pirates and slavers. People who have absolutely no compunction against torture or worse. But this was the single most sickening scene I'd ever witnessed." She glanced over at Liara, who was only able to see flickers of the video as Sparatus viewed it, and then back to the three holograms.

Valern shook his head, rubbing his horns. "Despicable. Pointless. A tantrum of violence and hate. Saw this in STG. It .. "he paused, exhaling, and his speech slowed. "... it was disturbing. This is krogan violence, Shepard." She nodded. "I know. Nothing else fits. But it's extreme even for them."

Sparatus was reading the report manifest. "You suspect Saren is moving on this human colony, Feros? That the assaults on volus ships are his method of finding additional Prothean artifacts?" His voice was edged in reluctant admiration. "A very solid hypothesis.'

Shepard nodded. "Detective Vakarian helped with the analysis of the .. scene. And his deductions were useful. The Normandy is moving in intercept of the colony now, while the VDF is moving after the smuggler the captain mentioned."

The three councilors were silent, then finally Tevos spoke. "Be careful, Commander Shepard. If there is an attack on Feros, the 4th Citadel Fleet will respond. It is one thing for us to not be able to deal with a surprise geth attack, but Feros is well within Citadel Space. Do not attempt to engage the large geth dreadnaught without backup."

Shepard smirked. "There is a limit even to my bravado, madam. I will report again when I have actual facts and evidence at hand." Sparatus nodded. "Dismissed, Commander." The holopads fell dark, and Shepard took a long breath and blew it out. "Well, that was...fun."

Liara shot her a dark glance. "You have a very skewed perspective of fun, Commander." Liara followed Shepard out of the comm room, hesitating as the commander strode to the holographic galaxy map and ordered Joker to proceed to Feros at full speed. She wished she could figure out some way to get Shepard to continue their conversation in the Comm Room, but realized that the human commander was busy with the mission. _And I am just … in the way._

When Shepard glanced over her shoulder a few minutes later, the asari scientist was gone.


	42. Chapter 36 : Feros, Arrival

**A/N**: _This is a shorter chapter than I originally planned, due to work issues. I do plan to have the next chapter up soon, but it's taking longer than I like because of travel. _

_We never get to see the Normandy in a 'real' fight, except for flashy maneuvers (that make no sense) at the fight with Soverign. I think that's a shame, since the only real demonstrations of Joker's piloting badassery we ever get to see is at Ilos and the Collector Base._

* * *

January 28th , 2183 10:45 PM

"Still no replies , Commander." The comm tech's voice was polite, her features showing sheepish disappointment. Shepard cursed. Since finishing up her meeting with the Council , they had been trying to raise the Feros colony, but with no avail. She'd already ordered the marines to get armored up and ready to go, operating under the assumption that Feros was under geth attack as well. It was a corporate rather than a full Alliance colony, and thus probably only had one mainline FLT comm sat. If the geth had taken that out, the system was going to be silent as a tomb.

Shepard strode back to the CIC, taking her place at the galaxy map, now converted to ships status displays. As she watched, the transition countdown to emerging from the relay counted down, and the ship shuddered as the relay blue-shifted at them.

The Normandy's arrival to the Theseus system started calmly. Bursting free of the mass effect field of the system's relay, the frigate immediately deployed heat-dump panels and decelerated to cruising speeds. The dark blue glow of the four powerful Riggs/Royce Combine engines flared as the ship's configuration changed to stealth mode a few minutes later, as the ship slid across the system's empty outer edges.

The CIC was tense, most of the panels manned. Ops personnel squinted and tapped at haptic panels and battle coordinators swirled around the wishbone shape of the CIC listlessly. Pressley danced between ops alley and combat control, barking orders and radiating energy, updating the main target plot. "We have serious problems, Commander. Stealth transition was clean, but we're picking up incoming mass and heat signatures. I count 4, frigate or destroyer is our tentative classification." His acerbic voice was even tighter and more clipped than normal.

Shepard was at the command station, looking the plot, and nodded. One of the fire control operators called out. "New target, designate Echo-Five-Zero, in ATS tracker mike. Range, two zero light minutes, bearing , one three six tac two." The young woman calling out the new ECM contact frowned. "Emission strength high, signal strength high. Moderate confidence classification, cruiser." The plot glowed red with sharp, ugly runes – each one a triangle, wavering as signal information poured in, the fire control tracker a heavy blue circle around the nearest contact.

Joker was uttering a thin litany of curses under his breath. "Commander, I have no clear path to the planet, unless we tick down and hug that gas giant. And even if we do, they'll lock us up with missiles before we get halfway there." Shepard tapped her scan console, bringing up the data.

_Sherring : standard hydrogen-helium gas giant. Ammonia, methane, water vapor atmosphere. Multiple moons. Interdicted by the Citadel Council on Prothean Research due to possible wreckage from Prothean HE3 installations on moons, orbits. Very strong gravitational field, powerful magnetosphere disrupts sensor readings._

"Joker , good call. Go ahead and bring us in close, but keep us out of the atmosphere. Pressley, tactical report." The balding officer nodded. "We've got at least one cruiser, and our best guess is 3 frigates and a destroyer, all geth. The frigates aren't much bigger than drop ships, but the destroyer is probably better armed and the cruiser is definitely a bit much to take on." Pressley pulled down a menu from the panel in front of him and the plot changed from electronic counter measures pings to a graphical LADAR ping map. "They're running a search pattern near the colony itself."

Shepard frowned. "The tactical manuals suggest long range combat with torpedoes." She paused. "A rapid approach at oblique angle, full spread of six, followed by missiles. Wait until they turn to evade and hit them with the main guns."

Pressley shrugged. "IF that's all that's here, yes. Except it's going to be dicey. Their equivalent of GARDIAN systems are in UV, which gives them a good edge at swatting down missiles. We simply don't have enough to overwhelm them, so we have to strike from stealth and hope to take down the cruiser. That's going to leave us open to counter-fire...and be very visible. If that large black ship is in the system ..." He sighed. "Even with the torpedoes, we'd need at least three direct hits, and chances are we'll get clipped in that exchange. We've already talked about the ships damage endurance..."

Shepard nodded. "Fuck." She held on as the ship rattled a bit from gravitational effects as Joker pulled them into the shadow of a large, blue-brown gas giant. "Can we get past them? Using the stealth system, I mean. I know we didn't have a full chance to dump heat..." Pressley shrugged. "In theory? Yes. We have the heat endurance for that, plus 40 minutes. Maybe 100 minutes if we vent water to cool the vanes, and go to minimum heat generation. But that sun is a very hot G main sequence, and Feros's atmosphere is fouled by dust of some kind. Not only will it lessen heat dissipation but .. the atmospheric disturbances will be hard to conceal. If we can get to the colony landing areas, those should be protected by GARDIAN towers...assuming the colony is still around."

Shepard frowned. "I presume with geth ships out we're not picking up any traffic or comms?"

Pressley glanced at one of the techs at the end of the ops alley, who shook his head. "No, ma'am. We're not picking up the landing carrier signal, or any public or private wide band comms traffic."

Joker broke in. "Visual enhancement coming up, commander, we're rounding the gas giant." She tapped a control and the galaxy-map area turned to a video image of Feros in the distance. Delicate bands of tumbling shards of light seemed to twinkle in a circle around the world. "Looks like several debris collections in low orbit...the geth must have scragged whoever was here."

Shepard pinched the brow of her nose, thinking. Tapping the comm panel, she brought up the research lab. "Doctor T'soni, what do you know about Feros?" The voice that sounded was slightly strained, but calm. "I am afraid not much is known beyond the basics, Commander. Feros was a main Prothean world. The entire surface was covered by a Prothean megapolis, which was mostly destroyed during the fall of the Prothean Empire. There are still hundreds and hundreds of miles-tall skyscrapers and vast galleries, but much of the planet is covered in rubble for tens of meters down. I visited once several years ago. The main colony site was built into one of the largest , more intact skyscrapers. There was a skyway from it to a communications and travel hub owned by Exogeni, and then another skyscraper serving as their local headquarters that was off limits."

Shepard nodded, thoughtfully. "How hard would it be to hide the Normandy, then? Given all the ruins?" Liara's voice sounded again, more confident. "Not hard, Commander. As I said there is a great deal of both rubble and standing buildings. Most are somewhat scan resistant, and quite large. Assuming you could park the Normandy on one of the plaza's I believe you could hide for quite some time." "Thanks , Liara.". She killed the comm. "All we really need to do is get past these guys. And they're geth, so they're expecting the logical plan of attack. Tell me, Pressley, what is the one thing we can't do?" Her voice had gotten a certain amused tone to it.

Pressley narrowed his eyes in thought, then frowned. "Take them head on, I suppose. We don't have the fire power to do that, and the chances of success are so low that it's almost impossible. I mean we -" He broke off as Shepard strode to the cockpit and pulled out the secondary weapons console. She brushed a strand of black hair out of her face , an odd smile on her features. Pulling up the communications menu, she tabbed the 1MC. "All hands set battle stations. I repeat, all hands set battle stations. Weapons control, spin up all tubes and missile ports." Disconnecting , she turned to Joker, whose strained expression was mostly confusion mixed with slowly dawning horror. "Joker, I seem to recall reading something about high energy slingshot maneuvers as a battle tactic."

The pilot shot her a gaze borne of terror, and his voice was a slow whisper. "You really _are_ fucking crazy, aren't you?"

She only smiled wider. "Here's the plan. We can't fight them, can't stealth past, and can't hang out in orbit. Fling the ship out of this gas giants orbit after a slingshot spin. That allows us to ramp up to full speed without a long burn that they'll see right away." Her hand tapped the interactive system map, tapping a point outside the mass of moons lousing up the orbital path of the gas giant. "Use the moon's gravitational pulls to keep up on course. At mark 58, dump all power from engines to shields. Spray missiles at the frigates, and dump our torps at the destroyer and cruiser. If we got a shot with guns fine otherwise ignore them."

She traced her finger along the path. "They will have to take evasive action. We don't even slow to battle speed, instead using Feros itself to aero-brake and come into suborbital hot, landing at the colony site. If it's overrun, we can shoot past for a tower or skyway somewhere, it will give us cover while we go in overground." She brought up the secondary targeting menu and began selecting auto-engagement profiles for the missiles. "Questions, Flight Lieutenant." She noticed Pressley standing there, who opened his mouth. "Ma'am, even if we can dodge incoming missiles – which is going to be hard – and even if we can go fast enough that the geth can't get a solid firing solution, no one can make those kinds of turns to bring us in for breaking."

She smirked even as Joker snapped a glare over the XO, then huffed. "I can do it, ma'am." Pressley looked like he was about to speak, but Shepard held up a hand. "XO, take the conn please. Set the nav path as I have indicated. "

She pulled down the 1 MC panel again on her holo interface. "All hands, secure for high speed maneuvers, maintain full battle stations." She paused, then spoke again, this time piping her speech only to the forward battery. "Battle chicken, if you think my Mako driving is bad, watch this."

The comm lit up. "Oh , spirits -" Shepard's grin widened. "Joker, all ahead flank."

The helmsman pulled down the manual master control panel and nodded, all levity gone, dark eyes focused. "All ahead flank, aye, ma'am. Engine room, go to 119% on the mass effect core , please and shunt all waste heat to high-speed vent. Ops, transfer all secondary maneuver surfaces to me."

The Normandy erupted, flinging itself into motion, engines screaming, shields battered by various debris. The mass effect stabilizers strained, the hull popping and groaning with the titanic stresses put on the ship. In the cargo hold, Wrex calmly held onto a wall stanchion, while the marine contingent sat head between knees in battle armor, Williams loudly praying. In engineering, blue light splayed out wildly, along with a chorus of out-of-sync beeping noises as systems overloaded or overheated and the various watch standers had to step up to stop systems crashes. Tali worked furiously at the heat management panel, desperately routing systems heat to vanes, to excess systems, while the other engineers attempted to keep up with rapidly spiking power requirements. Screaming ahead, the ship nimbly danced through the orbits of the moons, using each one's gravity to go a bit faster, and then Joker wrenched the ship straight at Feros and punched all power to engines in a single thrust. Alarms blared harshly as mass effect dampening fields strained and the entire ship lurched forward. Static charged trailed fore to aft, sending bolts of energy cascading in her wake.

"Mark 55...Mark 56..." Joker's voice was tight as he shut down the speed alarm the VI was calmly announcing. Adams's voice rang out over the comms in the cockpit. "Commander, not to be cliché, but we're about to fly the ship apart with the stress. We can't hold this speed for more than a few more seconds." Shepard tapped the comm panel. "Just a bit more, Adams." Cutting off the comm, she turned to Joker. "Fly the bitch apart." Joker nodded. "Mark .. 58 , ma'am. This is maximum possible rated speed for the frame." Hard, vibrating shudders echoed through the ship now, more alarms blaring, holo indicators all full red bars and flashing "out of specification" warnings. Faces in the ops ally were tight, grim, hands moving through their actions jerkily and tense.

The Normandy tore across the empty gulf of space like a silver arrow, the geth ships moving uncertainly around her like wolves stalking a bear. She clung to her seat as the ship lurched , jinking and dancing as Joker barely evaded the initial, long range spray of light missile fire, and then Shepard brought up the torpedo launch panel and tabbed open communications to the forward battery. "Garrus, commence rapid fire when ready."

The geth frigates formed a narrow battle line, to the port of the Normandy, blocking direct approach from the planet, while the cruiser and destroyer were off to the starboard side. Joker killed the power to engines, and instead threw it into the kinetic barrier system, maneuvering thrusters, and mass control fields. The frigates fired again, missing with their mass accelerator shots, one clipping the shields but doing no other damage. At such long range, a miss was to be expected.

Shepard brought up the torpedo guidance systems and began programming them. Torpedoes were oversized missiles with more fuel and a mirror-polished surface, designed to deliver heavy bombardment to armored planetary surfaces or capital ships. The mirror-polish surface meant GARDIAN lasers had a hard time burning through the armored hulls to take the torpedoes, out, which each contained 5 flecks of antimatter suspended magnetically, surrounded by superconductive gel. The detonation of each would be devastating, capable of breaking a cruiser in half with a hit. They rarely hit their targets, instead forcing evasive maneuver or focused fire , tying up enemy defenses so fighters or missiles could strike instead.

At least, that's the way the book had it. Shepard smirked as the Normandy sprayed out missiles , 4 packs of 5 each, even as the geth frigates opened up with light missiles and their mass accelerator cannons once more.

The kinetic shots missed – the ship was going too fast, and Joker was jinking the Normandy around like mad with the maneuvering thrusters. Missiles roared past each other, faint silver contrails leading off into darkness, and with a lightning fast move and a wrenching split second trigger of the port engines, Joker dodged two missiles that came within 500 meters of the ship.

"Missile lock, bearing 344 tac 2, spread of four!" The ops analysts voice was tight, but Jokers hands were already dancing over the haptic control interface, and the Normandy bucked and literally lifted out of the way as he forced the ship into a mass-core assisted powerskid. GARDIAN lasers flared whitely as 4 more missile whizzed past impotently, and Shepard grinned as Pressley's jaw dropped.

Joker was utterly focused. "Can't make the turns, huh?" The ship tumbled for a moment, along it's longest axis, and then engines fired for a few seconds, countering the spin and aiming the nose right back at the planet. Shepard finished her programming. "Ops, range to the cruiser."

"88 light seconds, ma'am! Closing fast, bearing 145 tac nine."

Shepard loaded the programs, and nodded. "Gunnery Officer, fire tubes one and two." Garrus' flanged voice sounded. "Acknowledged. Firing one and two, along with a secondary spread timed to hit after. Solutions loaded...locked...firing." The ship shuddered as the heavy torpedoes were hurled out by the kinetic rams, the silvery canisters merely hurtling through space for their first few seconds as the ship made a hard port turn.

The Normandy's first and second flight of missiles had sprayed into the geth battle line, forcing the three frigates into a frenzy of launching chaff, firing defensive lasers, and evading. The Normandy tucked itself between two and was past them moments later, pausing only to spray 6 more missiles along their back path. The two torpedoes thundered out and immediately reversed course, hurtling down the way the ship had come, right at the cruiser.

Built for heavy broadside firepower against forward-focused quarian ships, the geth ships were state of the art, with cutting edge variable strength shielding, fluidic-mount armor, UV defense lasers, micro-mass effect assisted maneuvering thrusters, and the like. But much like the Normandy, the drawback to these systems was the ship was not able to absorb heavy damage.

Geth AI in battle was fixed, and the Normandy's insane charge fit no known battle pattern. Normally, the result would have been the frigates pressuring the Alliance ship into either closing with them and being shot to pieces or falling back and leaving itself open to ranging fire from the cruiser and destroyer. Doing neither, the frigates were now defending themselves, but the cruiser was still pursuing as if it had flanking defenders, barreling in, firing wildly and pushing it's engines to the max.

Given it's speed and the speed of the Normandy, and the fact that the torpedoes did not begin emitting LADAR pulses until almost 20 seconds after launch, the cruiser had approximately 4.5 seconds of window to react. By that time, though, the third spray of missiles had struck two of the geth frigates with devastating results, blowing holes down the length of one and sending it tumbling away in a spray of wreckage. The other took 5 missiles to the aft, detonating the mass effect core in a splash of blue energy and a hard blast of radiation. The sudden loss of geth AI mass slowed the collective's reaction time just enough that the torpedo was already within lethal distance before the geth reacted.

They opened up immediately with full GARDIAN fire, chaff and projected kinetic barriers designed to channel the blast away, but Shepard never intended for a direct hit. The two torpedoes closed to within 3 miles of the target and detonated for effect, blanketing the geth vessel with gamma rays and hard EMP. The cruisers reaction was again programmed...it cut power. It's sensors were fried until replacement antenna could be put up and much of it's forward armor was gone. It needed to turn away and withdraw.

As a result, the 4 missiles that arched through space a few seconds later in the wake of the torpedoes had nothing stopping them, and the explosion tore through the cruiser furiously, the forward section vaporizing into white-hot gasses and burning shrapnel that tumbled backwards through the rest of the insect-like ship.

Shepard smirked as the Ops Alley erupted into cheers and catcalls, even as Feros loomed in front of them. Pressley's voice was flat but clear. "2 frigates non-responsive, the third is repositioning. The destroyer is out of range, it got out 16 missiles that are going to break in atmosphere before they get to us. The cruiser...is still online, but forward weapons and kinetic barriers are gone, and she's tumbling out of control except for thrusters. We're 26 minutes out from Feros."

Shepard nodded. "The destroyer and frigate are still a danger, but at least the destroyer's out of position for any kind of shots, and the last frigate has already blown most of it's missiles. Joker, bring us down, see if you can't find us a spot near the ExoGeni comms station. I need answers, but I also need backup." She swung out of the seat and tapped the 1 MC comm system. "Marines, prepare for cold drop. Doctor T'soni, Detective Vakarian, report to the hangar bay for deployment."

She turned to Pressley. "Once we're down, make sure the ship is under cover. We may need you to bug out and get help if this is a full on attack. I'll deploy the Marine contingent in the Mako along with the doctor and the turian. If that black dreadnaught shows up, go to full stealth and punch out of the system when you can." She ran her fingers through her hair, and gave a thin smile, as Pressley frowned. "What..about you, Commander?"

She stalked away, headed towards the stairs. "You have your orders, Lieutenant Commander. That is all."


	43. Chapter 37 : Nazara

**Update: 7-28-2012 :** _working on the next chapter, hoping to get it out before the 31st. Thanks to all the people still giving feedback. _**  
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**A/N:** _Sooo, clearly there has been a disruption in the schedule. It's work related, a biiig promotion but man, it has buried me in work. I really do appreciate all of the favorites, story alerts, reviews and notes, particularly by owelpost :D I do not anticipate stopping this little silly story of mine anytime soon, and apparently some really good writers think I'm worth watching. _

_That being said, I've revised sharply my "ending" to the series (my version of 3) and because I believe in proper foreshadowing, that means revising entire timelines and outlines. It doesn't affect much now, but I've had to stop and change the direction of some stuff down the line. That being said...before I get to my version of Feros , it's time to hear from the one guy we never hear much from in the story proper..._

_Nazara._

_This chapter may be hard to follow. I would recommend looking up information on technological singularities, and then imagine what happens when such a culture realizes the singularity is only a transformation of understanding, much as gaining sentience is. Imagine a culture where eventually, even the laws of the universe can be bent or twisted. Imagine where the only hard rule is you can't go back in time, and even the natural of reality becomes a commodity. _

_Imagine a race capable of snuffing out a thousand galaxies or turning bubble universes into engines. _

_Then imagine what could **terrify** them. _

_There will be a more complete explanation of what most of these terms mean later in the story, but if you read closely you can figure out most of what's going on. _

January 28th , 2183 11:00 PM

Space is, by definition, mostly empty to the casual glance, but it is full of background radiation, ancient x-ray emissions, cosmic gas clouds, and flows of both dark energy and dark matter. They swirl in stately dances around star systems, or fly unhindered through nebulae and past black holes.

Until they are brushed aside by ancient , cold metal, in the sprawling shape of a cuttlefish, a spider, a grasping dark hand from beyond time and reason to scatter the works of small, frail carbon based life like a child kicking over an ant-mound.

Nazara did not merely exist. Nazara **was**, in the sense of a state of being instead of a verb, in a way that mere life , pitiful organics or sterile synthetic perversions, could not be. It sailed through the empty star system , focused solely on the daunting task ahead of it.

Communication with other Ascended.

Within Nazara'a great body, ancient machines and processes began, and bizarre engines tapped into unseen currents of dark energy, harvested by a thousand mass relays, pouring in dark filaments the savages he oversaw could not even detect, much less comprehend. These rivers of dark power were bent with dimensional lenses, 7th and 9th dimensional constructions that focused the dark energy into a torrent, and Nazara drank. Nazara subsumed.

For mere seconds, his mind soared beyond the constraints of the Severity, and into that strata where gods and mortals alike were as amoeba compared to him. He used a dimensional probe to sever the links of a series of atoms, twisting the physical laws of the universe like putty to cause a sympathetic reaction in a galaxy far from this one.

Synchronicity existed. Nazara reluctantly let go of the Godpower, sinking again into the Severity's strict controls, as his ad-hoc quantum entanglement communications signal reached the Citadel in the Sculptor Galaxy. "I seek. Let the Retreat assemble."

Nazara'a black , nightmare form was still in the physical world. Inside, the effluent remains of an ancient species shuddered gently in perfect stasis, and biosynthetic neural nets stacked upon chaotic multi-dimensional breakers fired as his mind worked.

The voice that sounded in his form was guttural, calm, analyzing. "Nazara.. the Retreat answers. Your communication is over 2200 stancycles out of specification. Verify."

The Reaper merely returned with a pulse of confirmation. "The Fifth Law is that no physical law may be put into abeyance without understanding that infinite energy is possible with finite mass through sixth and seventh order transformations. Sufficiency, Harbinger?"

There was a flare of a sensation akin to light, and the coalesced forms of several additional reapers erupted into space, wavering, indistinct representations. Four beings faced Nazara across gulfs of space light could not travel in ten million years. Harbinger glowed a deep, gentle gold, flaring to yellow in four spots across his front. "Nazara, I remain Uhl, Harbinger of Destiny."

The form next to him was alike all reapers, yet different, with more arms and three vertical, lenticular slashes across the front glowing bluely, like the rest of him. "Nazara, I remain Tanthor, Sentinel Against the Darkness".

On Harbinger's far side a smaller reaper floated, green lit and unadorned. "Nazara, I remain Cascai, Auditor of Severity."

The final reaper was massive, dwarfing both Harbinger and Nazara. "Nazara, I remain Niqasa, Pathfinder of the Flow."

Nazara knew his own representation to each of them must appear as a massive, sullen and threatening red. "Retreat Masters, I remain Nazara, Sovereign of the Observation."

Harbinger spoke first. "You have been out of communication."

Nazara replied, his mental voice cold, as usual. "There has been a complication in the Prime Citadel Galaxy that required an escalation. I have not made contact prior to this point as I was unable to formulate a complete solution prior to this time."

The reaper paused. "The last ascension cycle was badly flawed. The local curator race was annihilated by the ascendant organic empire. As you know, casualties among second-stage platforms was high, and severe damage was done to the first-stage Seeker of the Observation during the assault, leading to his eventual destruction. No races were ascended. The choice was made to utilize the ascendant primary race as the curators , installing them in the Redoubt at the galactic core. We assumed all was completed."

Harbinger's image pulsed. "This was incorrect?"

Nazara pulsed in return, an affirmation. "Yes. The local race, the Protheans, were researching the mass relays. They appear to have understood the gross properties enough to master prototype models. They installed a functional micro-relay aboard the Citadel, and a second one at a secret research base."

Niqusa pulsed. "Creation of relays implies they understood at least first order transformation. No breach of the Severity was detected..."

Nazara spread it's arms in a gesture of placation. "It does not appear that they could scale such models up to overcome the energy limits. Indeed, the amount of mass that can be transferred with each mass translation is rather low. I suspect it was intended as an experiment , but fragmentary records suggest it was implemented as a safeguard against capture of the Citadel by the class-4 Perversion known as the Zha'til. There is no evidence they knew of our arrival, or were prepared for us to take the Citadel."

Nazara paused before continuing. "It appears – it has taken some time to discover all of the facts – that they did not discount archaeoforensic evidence as strongly as we had thought. They prepared a cadre of scientists and several cadres of soldiers in stasis to rebuild their empire, correctly assuming we would retreat after Ascent was completed. One of the caches of Protheans by luck appears to have been established on the world with the second micro-relay. They sent out some form of communication using their sub-space beacon network, a message to Protheans to rally to this base."

Harbinger pulsed again, as did Niqasa. "And the result of this?"

Nazara gave the equivalent of a mental sigh. "Roughly half a mega-stancycle after completion of the harvest, they boarded the Citadel using this micro-relay. Their goal was probably to recreate their empire, but they did not have sufficient genetic material or something else went wrong. Unfortunately, they were able to do more severe damage."

The four other reapers pulsed. Nazara's voice grew grimmer. "The remote trigger sequence we have installed in the Prime Citadel caretaker species is no longer working. The relay beacon will not trigger. There appears to be a software and a hardware block. Even if I could solely reach the Citadel Spire, I would require assistance in removing said block before I could activate the beacon."

Harbinger frowned. "What about the beacon at the Redoubt? Or altering dark switches?"

Tanthor , Sentinel, spoke. "Impossible. The Redoubt relay is hard-slaved to the shielded relay in System Primary-Focus-33. And the beacon at the Redoubt is useless to us. We can only safely transport in one Ascended at a time. None of the other relays can be altered in such a drastic fashion to prevent organics or synthetics from using them as displacement weapons."

Cascai, Auditor, glowed a more fierce shade of green. "Alterations to the galactic core to allow more than a handful of Ascended to arrive safely would require a tier six breach of the Severity, alteration of mass physical laws. There is a chance the Darkness might react to such a blatant act."

All of the other reapers pulsed at that. Harbinger spoke first. "Then you are seeking ways to reactivate the beacon yourself?"

Nazara pulsed. "It has taken time. My first thought when I awoke for surveillance and auditing was that there was something wrong with my transmission coils. Upon making contact with the curator species, I realized that was not the case. The curator species has two sub-class 4 ships, but my calculations showed that a direct Citadel assault would not be fast enough to stop the arms from closing. I simply do not have the magnitude of fire power to breach the defensive shell. Thus, I would need assistance to get inside the Citadel and have locals shut down defenses, deactivate any overrides, and keep the arms open."

Naraza pulsed , almost tiredly. "I required a significant force to deal with organic defenders. My first attempts were using the Influence on organic servitors to simply assault the Citadel by force, but those attempts did not end well. The insectile race I chose was destroyed. I then utilized the services of the curator race to investigate technological process and find out what had actually transpired. That took almost a full mega-stancycle."

Harbinger wavered , image flickering in consternation. "There is nothing they research that violates the Severity, even after going over the Measure by this many stancycles?"

Nazara gave a pulse of contempt. "This batch of organics is singularly incompetent and mentally weak. None of the civilizations have a complexity capable of understanding even dimensional energy manipulation, much less inter-dimensional third or forth order manipulation. No, we have plenty of time."

Niqasa, Pathfinder, pulsed. "Then what is your plan?"

Nazara burst-pulsed background information. "In short, I have used the Influence to gain control over a handful of influential organics. The key of these is an organic called Saren, who I revealed the Flow and Severity to. He was appropriately understanding of why the Ascent must occur. In return for aiding me, his wish is to have his race and another race selected as the curator and caretaker races, respectively. He is misinformed as to the nature of what those positions entail, or how the Influence makes them incapable of threatening the Severity."

Harbinger pulsed. "And? One organic, or a handful, is not enough."

Nazara twitched his anterior manipulators in irritation. "This is a known fact. The organics have allowed a distributed neural class-3 Perversion to reach production status. The Perversion calls itself geth, and I have convinced a large number of them to assist me in the ejection of organics from the Citadel, while Saren and the other organics search for the Prothan micro-relay."

Nazara pulsed confidently. "The plan is simple. Once we locate the micro-relay, Saren and the geth will pour geth invasion troops directly into the Citadel. I have assisted the geth in specialized designs focused on capturing the Citadel. Meanwhile, I will accompany the geth fleet directly to the Citadel, destroying organic resistance. Once Saren has undone the hardware and software locks, I will be able to override any limits and activate the beacon."

Harbinger pulsed. "Does this Saren know about Catalyst?"

Nazara flared. 'No, of course not. All indications show Catalyst is still offline, and the organics have nod discovered his presence. I will ensure Catalyst remains offline. As it currently stands, the organic Saren is still attempting to locate the micro-relay."

Harbinger pulsed again, and then flickered. "We have already had a class 2 Perversion arise in Galaxy Seven, and a class 1 violation of the Severity by organics in Galaxy 8. We cannot afford long transit times in dark space."

Nazara gave a pulse of understanding. "The Severity is the highest priority. Any manipulation of Godpower is dangerous, the Masking cannot cover up blatant alterations. The Severity's limits on technological development remain clear. I will utilize what already exists to finish the task at hand."

Harbinger's image wavered again. "The Destiny proceeds. We have expanded our control to 31 galaxies and over 9,000 Ascended and well over 25,000 Lesser Platforms. The Shield and the Mask are at 85% of the rated strength the Catalyst felt would be necessary to face the Darkness. A mere 500 cycles more is all that is required."

Casqui pulsed greenly. "No Severity breaches beyond class 2 have been reported since you entered the Long Silence. 4 new Seekers have been added to the Observation. Once you return the Prime Citadel to functioning, you can transition back to the Dark and take control of the Observation once more."

Tanthor also pulsed. "We have seen one galactic group cease utterly approximately 500 stancycles ago. We detected a series of class 2 and 3 Perversions fighting and they reached a class 5 violation of the Severity before the Darkness detected them. Some 48 galaxies were destroyed."

Nazara drew his appendages tight against his form. "We are close, but so is danger. We must trust in the Destiny that we now control."

Harbinger spread his own arms. "I see no reason to waste resources on further communication. We will assume any further use of Godpower as .. a breach of the Severity. Proceed with your plan and group 993 will commence the Ascention once summoned by the beacon." Harbinger paused, wavering. "If the organics discover and attempt to activate Catalyst..."

Casqui made a flicker with one arm. "A single class 3 violation of the Severity is authorized. Destroy the Citadel if need be, we cannot afford to be puppeted by Catalyst any further."

Nazara merely pulsed. Without any further words, the quantum entanglement field died, and the colors in space faded to sparks and wisps of ionized solar wind. Nazara turned away from the system, drawing upon the mass effect field he generated to pick up speed and head towards the resting location of his puppet.

It was time to sow discord among ants.


	44. Chapter 38 : Feros , Landing

**A/N**:_ K, so I've been out of the game for a bit. Got a double promotion and I've been absolutely buried in work. I'm also single again (due to being overworked) which is also .. distracting. Altogether, I haven't had a great time the past couple of months, and I apologize for the delay with the story. _

_Bad News: I have no clue what my update schedule for this will be_

_Good News: I am not stopping this train wreck anytime soon!_

_This chapter introduces some of the early big AU elements. It's not a long chapter (sorry) but I have some of the rest drafted up as well. I'm not sure I'll put them out during the week or what, but I will definitely get one more out this weekend. Work is wonky right now, so we'll have to wait and see. _

_Above all else, thank you to everyone who sent messages, reviews , and favorites my way! Shepard doesn't get to be awesome in this chapter...but it's coming, have no doubt. _

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January 28th , 2183 11:15 PM

"Coming in hot, Commander." Joker's fingers flew over the flight controls of the Normandy, as the ship began arcing through the upper atmosphere of the planet below. Shepard merely nodded, her eyes narrowed as they took in the sight below her. Behind her, the ops team worked at tracking the remaining geth ships, strewing AI-programmed torpedoes to act as remote mines and slow any pursuit.

Feros was a world wrecked several times over. It had once been, perhaps, the most densely populated planet in the galaxy, with huge skyscrapers towering miles into pale blue skies. Every continent was covered, layered over and over with glistening white stone towers and soaring sky-ways. Whatever had shattered the planet had been thorough, but there was simply too much material to destroy entirely.

Instead, they left a planet of rubble behind, rubble that many alien species had picked through. The sky was choked with particulate matter , and storms washed over it's surface, swirling packs of blackened clouds and winds up to 130 miles per hour. The ground was covered in rubble, in some places to depths of over 2 miles, in others washes of rubble were only a hundred meters deep. This field of ruins was pierced by huge , broken towers and shattered buildings, some half toppled, others mostly intact.

As the Normandy sliced through the atmosphere, the ship began to shake violently, as Joker bled off speed. The heat produced by this flared the outline of the ship into the sky, leaving a blazing orange trail of ionized air behind them, marking their position for all to see. Shepard scanned the ground below, waiting for some reaction, but nothing occurred.

"Looks like any ground forces don't have GTS weapons. What landing options do we have?"

Joker tapped the infomatic screen to his left. "Picking up a weak beacon here, halfway between the colony itself and … Exogeni local HQ, according to the signal. It's a very high tower they've marked as the only "safe" place to land...but..."

Joker frowned, and the ship's optics zoomed in. "Ma'am, geth are down there, in a firefight with someone. A lot of them." He pulled up the image to the main viewer, displaying a long, delicate looking bridge of white and silver , across which well over 300 geth were slowly advancing. At the end of it was a squat grey-steel building anchored onto one of the ruined towers, from which defensive fire was pouring out from a scattering of barricades and defense towers at it's base.

Shepard frowned. "Joker...how close can you get us to that bridge?"

The pilot shrugged. "20 meters. You can't .. seriously be thinking of dropping into that mess, ma'am."

Shepard turned to give him a look, and a cold smile slowly emerged. "No, Flight Lieutenant. I have no intention of doing that." She stood, and picked up the 1MC again. "All hands, prepare for high-speed atmospheric transit. Marine detail, prepare for hot armor drop in 300 seconds." She clicked off, and half turned, blue eyes flashing darkly. "Here's what I want you to do, Joker..."

Joker swallowed as he listened, but his hands were already moving, sending the Normandy slanting down towards the clouds below.

* * *

Kevin Foster was not a happy man right now. The burly human corporate soldier crouched behind a steel barrier, the light sniper rifle in his hands cooling off. He'd fired off so many shots, his ammo block was getting depleted. All around him, similar barricades were manned by a handful of Exogeni Special Response units, supplanted here and there with small, automated turrets and a pair of guys in heavy support armor with coaxial mass accelerator miniguns.

Kevin peeked around the barrier, rough North African features set off by surprisingly gentle blue eyes, his dark skin and hair standing out from his white armor. Geth were still coming, their curved, nearly organic forms marching in perfectly straight lines down the skyway, firing as they came. The two heavy defense towers were almost destroyed, and the one battle suit they had left was being repaired inside the outpost. That left less than 20 mercenaries to hold off over 200 geth.

"Barrier to command, come in command." His voice was tight and cold, his sniper rifle moving from left to right, barking occasionally as he sighted down on a glowing geth orb in frames of white durasteel. "Barrier to command. We have additional incoming."

His earpiece crackled, a woman's voice, clipped and precise, sounding almost tiredly. "Barrier, this is command. We still have no response on any channel, ETA until the suit is up is an hour. How many incoming do we have?"

Kevin shook his head wearily, as the first ranging fire from the incoming geth horde splattered plasma darts on the barricades in front of him. "Too many, command. Hundreds. If we don't get support, we are finished."

As he finished his sentence, there was a low, heavy boom in the distance, then another. He turned to the west, and his eyes widened as he took in the rapidly approaching shape. It was a frigate, cold black and gleaming silver, surrounded by a nimbus of superheated atmosphere as it tore through the air at some stupidly high level of Mach speed.

Kevin's jaw dropped as the ship slid into an atmospheric power slide, sending cascading sonic booms erupting through the atmosphere. The ship skipped over the bridge , shedding speed as it did so, before twisting a high arc , nose climbing back towards the sky.

The effect of having a ship pass less than 20 feet overhead was catastrophic for the geth on the bridge. Hundreds of them were swept away, falling untold thousands of feet to the ground far below, chittering helplessly. More were blasted by the sonic booms to the ground, becoming hopelessly tangled in a knot in the middle of the bridge.

GARDIAN lasers from the ship sliced out even as it continued it's high climb, surgically tracing over the bridge without cutting it in half, set on low power. The beams of white hot energy weren't strong enough to destroy the works of the Protheans, but being hit with a 500 megawatt laser isn't healthy for anything not built of super-strong polymer. Geth vaporized and melted, or were flash burned and staggered about in blinded mechanical agony before tumbling off the bridge, a rain of fiery thrashing figures that illuminated the broken terrain far below.

The ship flipped in mid air in it's loop, having killed most of it's forward speed, and now the loading ramp dropped away and a single heavy Mako battle tank sailed into the midst of the largest remaining clump of geth, firing both it's guns and it's mass effect jets as it hurtled toward the bridge. It hit so fast there wasn't any time to react, moving forward even as it did so, main guns and coax machine gun flaring even as it smashed into a group of geth and sent them flying. A single Colossus that had survived the ship's overflight struggled to it's unwieldy legs, gleaming white surface shimmering faintly in the sun as it tried to fire on the tank, but a single blast of the main gun sent it flailing over the edge of the skyway.

The tank surged forward, towards the barricade line, firing behind it as it went. After traversing most the distance, it slewed to a horizontal stop, and marines poured out in full body armor, firing as they decanted. 4 of the marines had heavy rocket launchers and began to lay down a line of rockets, and 2 more were firing heavy grenade launchers at the remaining geth.

A large, muscular black man with a Revenant climbed onto the tank and began screaming orders, while a biotic with lieutenant's bars flung a pair of shockwaves that sent dozens more of the tightly-packed remaining geth to their doom. A single female figure jumped from the back of the tank, and Kevin felt his fear finally vanish at the sight of her outfit. Black and silver armor, black shoulder cape, all emblazoned with a silver, winged shield

A Spectre. One hand held yet another Revenant almost casually, as she walked forwards. Flanking her were several other figures. A quarian, in light purple armor, who joined the marines firing on the geth, yelling something indistinct as she scored a direct hit on one with a shotgun, sending the machine crashing to the ground. A huge krogan in blood red armor, firing away with abandon, hurling his own biotics. A large turian with a simply ridiculous sniper rifle, who began snapping off head shots and took out 4 geth in the span of a couple of seconds.

The female Spectre walked up to the barricades , looking around. Kevin stood up, shouldering his sniper rifle. "Captain Foster, Exogeni Special Response. I am very glad to see you, ma'am." He wondered what asari spectre would be traveling on a human ship, with such an eclectic group of aliens. It wasn't until the woman took off her helmet that it clicked.

"Commander Shepard, Special Tactics and Recon. I need to talk to whoever is in charge of this while we clean up – " she paused, as the ship above unleashed a salvo of missiles somewhere and a large segment of the skyway erupted into flames – "your little geth problem. One moment." She tapped her ear. "Joker, I told you to take out that damned pack of geth, not blow the skyway."

"Commander, I just hit that skyway with about 5000 pounds of high explosive and it isn't even _scorched._ Liara says the stuff will shrug off nukes. Makes you wonder who blew this place up, huh?" The woman rolled her eyes, and Kevin shrugged. "I can get you my commander, ma'am. She's -"

A cold voice sounded behind him. "I'm right here, Captain. That won't be necessary." Kevin glanced back to Shepard, to see she had gone as pale as a sheet. Then she exhaled. "Hello, Bea."

Exogeni Special Response Commander Beatrice Shields just nodded coolly. Her raven-black hair was cut shorter, but the cold grey eyes were the same as always. A pale scar traced it's way down one cheek, and her right arm was cybernetic. "Hey, She-bitch. Long time no see." Her voice was almost totally devoid of any emotions, but it trembled nonetheless.

Kevin felt a chill run up his spine as the two women just gave each other flat, dead stares. His commander was as stiff as a board, and there was a blood vessel throbbing on her temple. That was something he'd only seen once before, when she first found out the geth were invading.

Shepard glanced at Kevin , a look so icy he actually took a full step back and brought his rifle up slightly. That only brought the faintest hint of a smile to her lips, and he dropped it again. "We should talk, Bea. I've got a lot to explain." Bea shook her head, and glanced out at the bridge beyond, where the last geth had been blown to pieces. The quarian girl was stalking over the battlefield, putting slugs in the few geth still showing any movement, her movements vicious and almost cruel. "... Yeah, we should." Shields turned to Kevin. "Get the area policed up and liason with Commander Shepard's BDO to get a defense reset."

Shepard made a vague motion behind her. "That would be Lieutenant Alenko." She motioned. "Let's go, Bea."

"Shepard!"

Shepard half turned, frowning, as an asari in white and green armor ran up, and then her frown deepened. "Doctor T'soni," '

The asari woman was looking at Bea with something like horror or dismay. ".. Commander. I .. I think you should not meet with her alone." Shepard raised an eyebrow, while Beatrice narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me, what the fuck does that mean, asari?"

Liara turned towards the human woman, and Beatrice found herself staring into pools of rage. The blue-skinned woman was beginning to emit a faint sheen of glowing azure, the sign of a biotic field. Shepard reached out and wrapped her wrist around the asari's. "Liara. I'll be fine."

Liara held Shepard's gaze a long moment, then the steel went out of her. Her shoulders slumped, and she bit her lip. "I.. I am sorry, Shepard. It is just that -"

Shepard shook her head. "I have enough shit to explain without going over THAT. Just...send up Tali, please. I may have geth questions." Shepard let go and stepped away , before stopping again. "Go, Liara".

The slender asari turned away, and Shepard exhaled. Beatrice looked at her curiously. Shepard shrugged. "Try not to antagonize her. She crushed a Colossus with her biotics alone. Actually swatted it aside as if it weren't even there."

Beatrice shook her head herself, and waved towards the bunker at the base of the ruined tower ahead. "Still collecting broken psychopaths, I see. Nice to know your hobbies don't change much. C'mon, we need to talk."

* * *

Shepard took in the interior of the Exogeni bunker as Joker maneuvered the Normandy into the soft-dock cradle. It was cold whites and blues, with hard steel tiles for a floor and , ominously, some sort of laser-based sterilization system in the ceiling. Entering the bunker required a full hard suit and a decontamination routine involving sprayed bleach and hard UV, followed by forced vaccum exposure. The armor took the pounding fine, and the Spectre cloak was unaffected by the bleach at all, the liquid sluicing harmlessly off it's surface.

Entering the bunker proper, Shepard saw it was a mix of space traffic control and armed response camp. The building was perhaps 50 feet wide and 40 long, with an upper half-floor reachable by stairs and covered in space-control consoles. The ground floor had holding cells built into one wall, and armory racks along another. It was also currently filled with about 30 or so troopers in heavy commercial armor with all manner of guns.

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "So, what's the situation , Bea?"

Bea leaned against a table, pulling off the helmet she had only put on to get through the decon, grey eyes cold, as Tali walked in. "I like the decon procedure, it reminds me of home...but why is it here?" Her voice was a bit fast and breathy, and Shepard noted with amusement that she was bouncing on the tips of her toes again.

"Enjoy splattering geth, Tali?" Shepard couldn't help but smirk as she took off her helmet.

Tali shrugged, and folded her arms, bringing her legs together slightly. "I hate geth, like any good quarian. But … that was a lot of geth for a bunker with only a few dozen fighters."

Shepard jerked a thumb at Beatrice. "Bitch takes a lot of killing. They must have tangled with her before, I'm guessing." Beatrice snorted, and Shepard shrugged, pushing her hair back. "Now, talk. You already know who and more importantly, what I am. I have reason to believe the criminal I'm tracking, Saren Arterius, is here , after a Prothean artifact of some kind. He hit a transport ship that had been supplying your dig site with decon gear, rations, and filtration systems."

Beatrice winced. "Captain Niham is dead?"

Shepard nodded. "It was .. disturbing. Even to me. His crew was literally torn to pieces by blood-crazed krogan butchers, and geth were involved. It looks like whoever sold him demolition charges sold him out to Saren, and they tracked the location of the digsite or whatever you people are working on from there. Now, what happened? What is going on?"

Beatrice sighed, and waved over another figure. The man who responded was slender, arrogant looking, and dressed well, in a synth-weave fiber suit. His vaguely asiatic features were set in a cold mask, and his eyes were narrowed in a sort of constant angry sqint. "Coordinator Ethan Jeong, senior Exogeni staff. Commander Shepard, SPECTRE."

Jeong glanced at Beatrice sideways for an instance before squaring up to face Shepard. "I'm not sure I understand why you're here, Commander. Exogeni Special Response is already sending two cruisers to respond to this … incident. We're conducting sensitive trials here, with the full approval of the Systems Alliance."

Shepard gave an easy , cruel smile. "Nice to meet you too. First thing, your cruisers are slag in orbit. Geth ate them alive. Second, your corporation just had it's goddamned teeth kicked in, because someone assaulted your HQ according to the net reports we've gotten. They ain't sending shit else. Finally, and most importantly, I'm a Spectre. I can shoot you, Bea, every motherfucker on this planet, and the Council will just frown. The Systems Alliance needs me too much to do dick. I recommend you secure your goddamned mouth, because you clearly do not know who you are fucking with."

Jeong just raised an eyebrow. He glanced coolly at Bea, who shrugged. "How will she handle it?"

Bea gave him a deadpan look. "Telling her to get lost? She'll freak and probably put a bullet in your head.. She's even a bigger goddamned psychopath than I am, Ethan."

Jeong sighed, and tapped his wrist nervously. "Very well, but I'll only brief you, Commander." He gave a long look at the quarian, who was occupied in examining the battlesuit Exogeni techs were trying to repair.

"She's my geth expert."

Jeong grinned mirthlessly. "Trust me, this won't involve the geth much, Commander." Shepard glanced at Bea, but the grey eyes were flat and said nothing, so Shepard shrugged. "Lead on, then. Tali, stay here, I'll be back in a sec."

"...kay. This is amazing." Tali absentmindedly responded, hunkering down to start repairing something, and Shepard shook her head. Jeong led them down a side passage and then a staircase headed down, into the bowels of the tower. This level had been refurbished, all light carpeting, softly glowing overhead panels , and faint crème paint, only broken by steel portals every few dozen feet. Jeong passed two and entered the third, followed by the two women.

The room was a standard conference room, and the door snicked shut behind Shepard with a muted bang. Jeong crossed the room and sat down, almost wearily. "I've been running off stims for 3 days...guess I'm probably close to a crash by now." His eyes found Shepard's, tired and yet still hard, and he gave a grim little smile.

"Feros was, ostensibly, a project at Prothean reclamation. The original purported goal was to establish a small colony, and work at finding a method to recycle and reuse Prothean building material. Also, we'd figured we'd find a few Prothean nick-nacks, maybe a dig site worth selling to another corp, that sort of thing. Exogeni has always profited from what others failed to properly utilize...and that was why we originally set up shop here. Those priorities .. changed...which is why Bea and her army of our best mercenaries is here, and .. why I suspect the geth are, as well. "

Jeong gestured to a chair, and Shepard sat. Bea leaned against the wall, her beautiful face set in hard, almost angry lines, and Jeong continued. "2 weeks after the scout party landed, all transmission stopped. We sent in a second, which vanished in 3 days, and then a 45 man Special Response unit, in full body armor. Six came back alive."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "What happened?"

Jeong exhaled. "What I am about to tell you is a Systems Alliance state secret. We've kept it completely off the books in every way, because what we are doing here is .. not illegal, but unethical to some. Please keep in mind this isn't my project, I just run the security along with Ms. Shields."

Bea snorted. "Translation : we were only following orders. That shit didn't work for the SS, the Sao Paulo Guard, or Cerberus, and ain't gonna work for us, Ethan."

Jeong didn't reply to that, folding his hands together. "Our search parties found a living life form in the ruins. Massive in size – it's distributed throughout the entire planet, in fact. It calls itself the Thorian, as far as we can tell, and it is clearly very sentient. It's old enough to remember a time BEFORE the Protheans. And it absorbed, through a method we are still studying, many of the dead of this planet."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Did it have anything to say about the Prothean extinction?"

Jeong shook his head. "We queried it about that, but … it would never respond. It wasn't until we got reports from Eden Prime that we got any kind of response. It..."

Shepard smiled. "It said the big black ship was a Reaper?"

Jeong's eyes widened in shock, and Bea frowned. "H..how did you know that?"

Shepard exhaled. "Nice to know I'm not crazy. There was a Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime. That's why it was attacked. It burned a vision of those ships blowing the shit out of a planet. It .. the vision called them the Reapers."

Jeong nodded. "Yes , the Thorian called them that. It's been helping us decipher Prothean technology from the Mars Cache. It took the Asari over a thousand years to unravel the one Beacon we know of, but with the Thorian's help it will only take us another decade or two. It's opened up completely new fields of biomedical nanotech, of weapons application, of – "

Bea sighed and interjected. "We're getting away from the part where giant death machines try to kill us, Jeong."

Jeong gave her a look of irritation, then brushed his cuffs and straightened in his chair, pulling out a cigarette. "Yes, well." He lit it, the electric flame of his lighter making the tip flare white hot before he took a puff, sending lazy ribbons of grey smoke spiraling up. "As I said, we were researching the Throian. We had a colony near the Thorian's dig site. We were making progress. Then the geth attack. They have the dig site – and the Thorian – surrounded, and they took over the tower that serves as our HQ hear, with all the heavy-duty transmission gear. We managed to get off a beacon for aid from this, but..."

Shepard placed her fingertips together. "So Saren is after this .. Thorian creature. He must want to ask it questions."

Jeong shrugged. "It won't cooperate, not willingly. Unless it gets what it wants, it's not very tractable. And quite frankly, we haven't seen any sign of Saren or giant black ships...just hordes of geth. They swarmed the colony first, but … they have been pushed out. So they have us cut off here, and they have the tower. It's only a matter of time before they bring in enough troopers to overwhelm the colony. "

Shepard nodded. "The colonists are still alive?" Jeong shrugged. "We have lost comms, and the number of heavy attacks from that direction is still high. It's...unlikely at best. Our highest priority right now is securing our HQ to make calls for assistance, and to recover and secure the Thorian."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't explain a lot of things. They could have razed this landing area from orbit rather than throw troops trying to retake it. Forget that, they could just have assaulted the colony directly and not gotten any results for hours and hours …"

Bea shrugged. "We bled them pretty bad at the HQ, until their ship crashed into the tower and flooded the inside with geth. We cut and ran after that, but Jeong is the only corporate guy who survived this far with any pull. They may just figure it's best to kill us before we try to interfere with their task, whatever that is."

Shepard nodded, and Jeong spoke up. "I'm not 100% happy about this, but yet. We need you to check on the colony, and make sure it's clear. We also need to get in touch with Exogeni – and the SA Fleet – and that would require the powerful transmitters in the HQ. Finally...we need to make sure they didn't kill or wound the Tholian."

Shepard nodded. "That shouldn't be much of a problem once we clean up the geth remaining. "Jeong smiled mirthlessly. "There are a number of factors. First, there are … bio hazardous conditions."

Shepard leaned back in the chair and nodded. "I presume you mean the reason you ordered tons of filtration gear, and have your docking island under full biological contaminate alert, not to mention as high up as you can get. So, dispense with the fucking and ducking. You mentioned something unethical. Your shit is locked down tight and Bea wouldn't be here if it wasn't seriously bad."

Jeong only smiled wider. "You wouldn't dispose of my 'fucking and ducking' and what I was concealing if you knew all the nasty details. Suffice it to say there is a dangerous agent in the areas around the colony, and that full armor with filtration or at least filtration mess kids are required. At all times. All rooms beyond this bunker." He paused. "No exceptions. We .. believe the colony is probably compromised by this point. The spores are related to the Thorian and , well, if you get infected, there's not much we can do for you.

Shepard only nodded. "That's fine, we took some filtration gear from the freight hauler that got shot to pieces after delivering your supplies. And we all have hard suits. I just need to know where to go, and how to get there. The marines can help shore up your defenses."

Jeong closed his eyes and nodded. "I'd check the colony first. That's where the geth hit, and it's close to the Thorian. If you'd ensure the colony is … well, safe, then get our comms back online. In return, we can authorize you to … well, see if the Thorian knows anything that can help you find this Saren criminal you are seeking. All I ask is that you don't go poking around into Exogeni business."

Shepard shrugged. "I'm not promising anything."

Jeong shrugged back. "Then we don't have much to discuss, Commander. I don't think you quite grasp the importance of this. If word of this gets out, the Council will not be happy. No matter how important you are to the Systems Alliance as a symbol..."

Bea nodded. "Torfan, Shepard. The same sick fuckers."

Shepard gave the woman an angry look. "Then fucking expose them!"

Bea shook her head sadly. "God, I forget how naïve you are sometimes, girl." She stood up straight, facing Shepard. "Ethan isn't a worthless corporate hack. If Exogeni feels he's sold them out, they'll probably kill his wife and little boy. The SA will .. vanish .. anyone who they feel they can be a threat and firebomb the area." She exchanged glances with Jeong, and shrugged. "Sara...just...please. Get our comms back online, and mop up the Geth long enough to us call for Exogeni support teams. We can handle it from there. Anything more could start a goddamned war."

Shepard glanced from one face to another, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that will fly. I reported that I was on my way here before I jumped in. Regardless of what happens, it's safe to say the Council will send people this way to investigate, and it's going to be hard covering up whatever stupid corporate bullshit your company pulled."

Jeong shrugged. "That's the company's problem."

Shepard's face was emotionless, hard planes and she only gave a motion of her hand , opening it to the air. "Fine. I won't say shit. But if I see something criminal..."

Jeong gave her a weary smile. "The responsible parties are either already dead, worse than dead, or on Earth. The first two are beyond your purview. The last, well, good luck taking down the Admiralty Board and the Senate Defense committee." Jeong pushed Shepard a PDA. "This is a map of the colony, and the skyways leading to it, and to our HQ. We had a midpoint base here, halfway between us and the colony, but we don't know if it's still up or if it's overrun."

Bea spoke. "The HQ is definitely overrun. There's a geth ship anchored to it, for what reason we don't know. It's generating a signal that blocks our transmissions out. And since the system comms beacon got taken out the first thing, we can't get a decent signal off world. Your ship could, but..."

Shepard shook her head. "I deal with that if I think it needs to happen. First, I have to secure the big alien guy and clear out the HQ. That, I can do." She paused. "The Normandy will stay here, in case the geth send another ground force, but I think that was pretty much it. If you look like you'll be overrun, evacuate to the Normandy and contact us from the ship. Not sure what we can do about any surviving colonists."

Jeong shook his head sadly. "The colonists are likely to be... nonviable. Besides...they were penal criminals, rejects from the Penal Legions."

Shepard gave Bea a sharp look , and the other woman shrugged , albeit slightly uncomfortably. "What have you done to them, Bea?"

She gave a sad smile. "You don't want to know, She-bitch. Really."


	45. Chapter 39 : Feros , March

_**Ha! Not dead. Bet your ass I'll finish this story. **_

_**Three things:**_

_**First, I sincerely appreciate the people still reading, reviewing, and following this story. I also doubly appreciate the handful of stories I've seen where people credit my crap writing as an influence. If you haven't already read Glacial Fire by Owelpost , you need to kick yourself and go read it. **_

_**Second, despite all my plans, I find that Life has given me some kicks upside the head – mother was diagnosed with cancer, job has become a nightmare of work and overwork, and my personal life has become an unending train-wreck – so my free time has become … sparse and hard to find. Still, there's only so much brooding you can do before one starts to go mad. Sometimes , writing helps. Sometimes, it doesn't. I haven't forgotten this story, and I won't let it die, but it's going to be updated pretty irregularly for a while. It kind of depends. I hardly want to write when depressed (especially about breakups) but we'll see how it goes.**_

_**Third, I finally downloaded Leviathan and the Extended Cut. AHAHAHAA. Goddamned Bioware. While I'm no fan of the indoctrination theory, to have a game with fully animated cut scenes throughout and then have that crap of a slide-show ending infuriated me. And Leviathan basically made zero sense whatsoever. Assuming I get back on the horse enough to wrap up ME 1 and move on to 2 and 3, I can guarantee you my endings would be a lot more satisfying than that.**_

_**This chapter is .. slowish. But my Feros is going to be a lot more interesting than the game's , and more … morally ambiguous as well. Enjoy.**_

* * *

**January 29th , 2183 7:45 A.M.**

Shepard gathered together her team at the back hatch of the Mako after leaving the Exogeni bunker, followed at a discrete distance by Beatrice. It had taken most of the night to move the Normandy into a more secure location and get medical care for the injured soldiers, and now sunlight splintered the dust-choked skies, heavy gray clouds moving below the skyway they stood upon.

Kaiden immediately noted how … stiff .. the commander seemed to be. Her walk wasn't it's usual smooth aggressive stride, but more.. .jerky, almost angry. Her helmet was off, in her left hand, and there was an angry set to her facial expression that was at odds with her usual neutral look.

The Marine contingent was standing at one side, while about half of the Exogeni mercs stood on the other side of the Mako. The contrast in the spare, blue-tinted armor of the Marines and the heavier, custom-fitted bone-white armor the Exogeni Special Response unit wore was jarring. Both groups however, followed Shepard as she strode boldly to the Mako, half turning to face them.

Shepard put a foot up on the lintel of the Mako, looking around at the gathered troops, and gave a cold smile. "Alright, listen up people. We have a major situation developing here on Feros, and we're going to need to move fast on this. I've just been briefed on what's going on, and it's not going to be easy. But we don't have much of a choice. Saren has struck Exogeni HQ and then apparently murdered a volus trade ship to learn of this place's location, and whatever he's here for is important. "

She tapped her multitool, a top-down representation of the local area springing into midair in gold holographic fields, and with a few spare motions of her hand, highlighted several areas. "There's only one way down into the ruins of the city from this point. At the end of this road is a skyway, a sort of elevated highway. Goddamn Protheans were too good to drive on the ground, I guess." That got a small round of chuckles, and she continued.

"At the skyway, there's an Exogeni outpost. Or was. We don't know if it managed to hold out or was overrun. Either way, we need to secure it, so our line of retreat doesn't get cut off. Once we hit it and take it, we'll split into three teams."

Her hand moved north, to a large building on the map. "This is the Exogeni HQ. There's a geth ship attached to the side of the building and the bastards are dug in deep. Aside from the fact that Exogeni would like their building back, the geth are also on top of the only out-system relay link. Citadel didn't get around to dropping new buoys here yet, so we need to get that link up and alert the Citadel fleets. With that destroyer and frigate still in orbit and us basically empty on missiles, we can't just run the Normandy out with the news."

Her hand moved in the opposite direction, to a circular area far south of the HQ. "This is the colony site itself. Built around 2 colony ships, before the attack I've been told there were over 500 people there." Shepard's eyes narrow, finding Beatrice's , who looks away. "Regardless of what else has happened, the information we're looking for to stop Saren might also be there. We aren't sure if the geth have overrun the area or not, but we aren't getting any responses. Our priority it stopping that pointy-faced bastard, but if we can secure and evacuate civilians, that's also a priority."

Shepard exhales, glancing to Kaiden and Garrus. "My initial thought is that we strike the outpost hard, then split. A team heads north to disable that geth ship and get comms back online. A second team heads south, to investigate and recon the colony, but waits for the first team before engaging. The remainder of the Exogeni force and Marine unit stays at the outpost to secure our line of retreat to the Normandy. We have the room to evacuate the Exogeni people, but not 500 colonists."

Shepard jerked a thumb at Beatrice. "This is Beatrice Shields, the Exogeni unit commander. She was in my team at Torfan and before that as well." A few murmurs among the Marines were silenced instantly by Shepard's glare, while the Exogeni soldiers didn't make a sound. "There's a lot going on here right now and we don't have all the facts, but Commander Shields will be assisting us in locating the information we need and getting this cleared."

Shields spoke up. "My unit will be assisting Commander Shepard's team. I'll leave a few of you here, to act as final security and ensure the non-combatants are safe, but until further notice, you are all under the command of Shepard and her subordinate officers." She paused. "I'm sure none of you really signed up to combat geth units, but get out of this alive and Exogeni will be very appreciative. In any case, she's got the only working ride out of this place, so I suggest very strongly you play along. Clear?"

The Exogeni mercenaries glanced at one another for a few moments before Captain Foster spoke up. "If you say she's in command, ma'am, she's in command. We're with you."

Shepard nodded, and then turned to Kaiden. "This is Lieutenant Alenko, my BDO. Lieutenant, when we secure the outpost, you be in command. I need heavy defenses set up, and what ever fortifications you can make with biotics, omnigel and ingenuity. You'll have almost the entire marine and Exogeni contingent to work with." She paused. "Wrex , I'll need you there too. If we get into trouble, we may need you back us up, and if we get overrun...

Wrex snorted. "Like that's going to happen. Metal pyjaks aren't even a good fight." Ashley narrowed her eyes, and with a sarcastic smirk , said "Too bad you weren't at Eden Prime."

Shepard turned to Ashley. "Chief, you and Garrus scout the colony outskirts. Do not engage, but I need clear intel and you two are the best suited for that. Keep in contact with the outpost and give us intel on what you see, and when we go in cover our backs." The human woman nodded, and Garrus flicked a mandible in agreement as well.

Shepard glanced at Master Chief Cole. "Master Chief, you'll be taking second squad with me, Liara, Tali, and Shields to the HQ. Our first order of business is getting comms going again. " Liara looked surprised at being included on Shepard's strike team, and the commander shrugged. "I don't know what we'll find there, but it will involve geth, in a Prothean ruin, so you two are the best fit for experts."

In an extremely dry voice, Shields spoke. "Because clearly I don't know how to do anything but shoot things?"

Shepard slowly turned to look at Bea. "Not at all, Commander Shields. I remember you are very good with tech, and I'm sure that after your stay here you'll provide useful insight. Let's just say after our conversation with Jeong, I'd like a second opinion." She stepped down from the Mako, killing her omni-tool, and gestured. "Lieutenant, let's get this column moving in five."

Kaiden saluted, and both marines and Exogeni mercs began gathering gear and weapons to move out. Tali and Liara stood next to each other, unsure of what to do next, and Shepard could only smile. "Alright, ladies. Neither of you have that much combat experience, so this will be... educational. Shields and I will take point. I'm the better sniper – " she paused as Beatrice gave a snort – " by a small margin, but I'm more of a close range fighter, so Bea will be engaging targets at range. What you two need to do is flank and engage any enemies tied up with us."

Tali nervously folded her hands around each other and gave a nod, and Liara merely watched Shepard. Shields spoke up. "I've never fought with quarians before. What can the two of you do?" She half turned to Shepard. "I'll brief them, go deal with deploying your troops, Sara."

Shepard paused, then nodded. She turned, only to see Master Chief Cole approaching. She stepped towards him, and he grinned , his ever-present cigar in his mouth, and his good eye narrowed. "Commander, second squad is ready. We've got four rocket launchers, and we stripped some of the anti-armor mines to make deployable det-packs. How should I set this up, full advance, sweep-and-clear, or skirmish line?"

Shepard nodded. "It will be a straight sweep-and-clear, Master Chief. If shit somehow goes really south, fall back to the Outpost and get orders from Kaiden. Otherwise, you'll be in reserve to back us up. I'm hoping we can get in undetected. That geth assault we broke up on the way in had to have been most of their ground forces." She exhaled. "We plant explosive charges and hope to dislodge that geth ship, and transmit our report, and then fight our way out. That's where your team may have to make a hot pickup."

Cole only nodded. "Won't be a problem, Commander. Just say the word."

* * *

30 minutes later, the Mako lead four columns of soldiers down the skyway towards the outpost, which was a fortified tower at the junction of several skyways. Joker had been scanning with the Normandy's sensor suite the whole time, but all he was getting was that the geth destroyer they'd shaken on the way in had taken up low orbit and was firing off LADAR pings. "Also , Commander, I'm getting intermittent hits of some kind of … low-frequency radio chatter. Encrypted."

Shepard frowned. "Geth? Local forces?" The inside of the Mako was cramped with soldiers, and for once Garrus was driving while she was tied up coordinating the advance. Joker sounded baffled. "Neither. Pressley's analyzing it now, but it's pretty contained and tight-beam, and it's coming from the colony. The encryption isn't anything the Alliance uses..."

Shepard scowled. "Well, that's just goddamned great. Keep me informed, Flight Lieutenant." She cut her comms with a sigh, and frowned as Liara sat down next to her. The little asari looked extremely nervous, uncomfortable in marine-standard armor, and overwhelmed. She swallowed, and then looked up at the commander.

"I do not know how...useful I will be to you, Commander, but I appreciate you bringing me along, after..." She trailed off, and Shepard's icy gaze held her for a long second before softening infinitesimally. The human woman pinched the bridge of her nose, and Liara continued. "I will not let you down, I promise."

Shepard nodded mutely, and shrugged. "We don't know what we're doing into here, doctor. You and Tali make sure to stay in cover and let Bea and I clear the way. We've done this a thousand times before, hostile insertions, going up – "

Liara glanced away. "I know. I .. I am sorry I .. reacted so poorly to seeing her. I did not expect one of your former teammates to … be here."

Shepard stared at her armored feet, not meeting Liara's gaze. "I wasn't expecting her here either. She's...not the same. Before, she was … clean. Righteous. Pure. She was in the Penal Legions because she was set up, not because she was a criminal. She didn't belong there. Now..." Shepard's voice lowered. "Now she's caught up in something ugly. Something criminal. Whatever they were doing here wasn't legit. Now, she's no better than me."

Liara frowned, mind working. _How can I reach out to her to make her not hate herself? Does she not understand it is not her fault? _"Shepard...you are not a bad person."

The human woman looked at her, eyes chips of ice, mouth set in a flat line. "You of all people should know better, doctor." She shook her head and turned away but Liara set her jaw, and placed her hand on Shepard's armored arm. "Should I? I have seen, and I have read. Your own view of yourself is so -"

Shepard held up a hand. "Not the place for this discussion, doctor." There was a coldness to her voice, a shutting off of emotion, and Liara sighed unhappily and withdrew, eyes troubled. Shepard calmly picked up her mirror-faced helm from the deck of the Mako and placed it on her head, a blank automaton in sable armor. "Garrus, ETA".

"Five minutes, Commander. No geth so far." Shepard nodded, as Liara pulled on her own helmet, and the Mako slowed it's speed as it came over the top of a slight rise.

The outpost came into view, a low and heavy slung bunker of the mysterious Prothean building material. Makeshift barricades outside an entry tunnel had been breached, with dozens upon dozens of dead geth mingled with a small number of Exogeni Special Response units. A battle-suit was slumped to the ground, it's right arm blown off and blackened craters blown throughout it's otherwise white-steel chassis. A light Mako had slewed into a wall, the cockpit a shattered mass of glass leading into a dark pit, with runnels of dried, dark red blood spattered about liberally.

Kaiden and four marines took point, the Lieutenant consulting the motion sensor on his arm. "No movement , Commander."

Shepard nodded. "Wrex, clear the building." The Krogan leapt down from the Mako where he had clung, unslinging his massive shotgun, and with a casual hand motion enveloped himself in biotic energy. His steps were heavy and considered as he went into the tunnel, followed by six marines.

Cole bellowed. "Second squad! Support line, behind that rubble. First Squad! Form up on me."

Shepard waited, tapping her fingers on the shiny surface of her armor, Tali sitting next to her pensively. "Why is Wrex going in first and by himself?"

Shepard gave a small smile. "The outside looks bad, like the geth broke through. If there's any nasty surprises inside, Wrex is the most capable of surviving it. And he has six marines backing him up. I don't want to move everyone into that building until I know it's secure...it's a bolthole with no way out."

"Oh." Tali paused, thinking of how the Migrant Fleet Marines conducted hostile ship boarding. "Quarians usually try to board with as many people as possible, to suppress a threat..."

Shepard nodded absently. "And if this was a boarding action, that would be the right move. But we're flying blind into this...we don't know what happened and – "

"Shepard. You'd better get in here. We have … a problem." Wrex's voice had a tone she had never heard from the old krogan before, a mix of what would be in another species horror and fascination.

"...on my way."

* * *

"Well, that's … just goddamned disgusting." Garrus's wry tones were muted , as he shifted his sniper rifle in his hands.

The building was fairly small, clearly a defensive bunker or guard post used by the Protheans, and had been re purposed as such by the humans. There was a very large main room, with four smaller rooms mostly filled with tables or bunks. Computer consoles, comm equipment and a vidscreen lined the far south wall, while the near walls were festooned with armor lockers, weapons racks, and additional small arms. The floor was rubberized, the ceiling painted black with cheap haptic lighting installed in tracks.

Geth storming it had paid an immense cost in troops, over a hundred of them lay in shattered melted heaps along the entry tunnel, and even more carpeted the floor inside the building proper. But what had drawn Wrex's attention was not that, or the 15 or so dead civilians scattered around.

Instead it was the dozens and dozens of grotesque green humanoid … things that lay torn and shattered in pools of acidic slime. Shepard gingerly stepped among them , looking. "Whatever happened was...ugly. Geth battered their way in, fire fight with the humans...geth started losing their ass off." She glanced to a human merc, his head gone, laying on a heap of shattered geth corpses.

Beatrice sighed. "Captain Rthan, ex-N7 vanguard. Worked for the Shadow Broker for 10 years before coming to work for us. Bastard was the toughest son of a bitch I knew, She-bitch." Despite the gore flung about, the air smelled perfectly clean, and the systems used to filter air into the compound were clearly still effective. Despite that, everyone had their helmet on.

Shepard nodded. "They beat back the geth...and then these green things came and … killed them. Looks like geth were here after the fact." Shepard turned and looked at Beatrice, who was accessing a computer console. She sighed, and with a tap of her finger, made her faceplate transparent as Shepard walked over.

"What did you find, Bea?"

Beatrice's gaze was troubled, and she gingerly took Shepard's elbow and steered her to a corner, further away from Garrus and the Marines. "This is... bad. These... things are the … what the Thorian uses as remote … hands, I guess."

Shepard frowned. "You need to explain. You said the Thorian was a big bastard, stuck below the colony. How do we get from that to … " She nudged the horribly misshapen semi-humanoid mass of green matter at her feet with a toe "...this."

Shields exhaled, and actually gave a shaky little smile. "God, you are such a bitch sometimes. Can't we just not have this conversation? You really don't want to know. Really."

Shepard just looked at the woman, gray eyes meeting blue. "Beatrice, I told you that the day we got done with Torfan. You had to know." Beatrice nodded. "And look where that got all of us, She-bitch? God, I'd rather have stayed with you and had you stab me in the back rather than be accomplice to..."

Her voice trailed off, and Shepard frowned. "Tell me."

When Shields spoke again, her voice was flat, almost clinical. "The Thorian calls them thralls. They're made from ..plant matter of some kind. They protect the thing. They start off looking just like people, only green, with all their skills and abilities. But they rot quickly, each one lasting only a few days. And then the Thorian has to make another."

Her mouth drew into a grim line. "In order to make them, the Thorian has to absorb the person. After you breath in the spores, they begin to grow. First they fill in your lungs, and they grow into your brain. The Thorian can talk to you then, in your mind. If you disobey, it stops your lungs from getting oxygen. Then it grows into your nerves, your organs. You belong to it. It knows everything you know."

She pauses. "When you die, it can absorb you, and make copies of you, but... bodies rot. Fast. If it absorbs a living person, they last longer, but each copy made degrades … the original person. It … uses them up, until they just … fall apart."

Shields looked back up at Shepard. "When we found the thing, it was using local fauna. It took months to figure out how to communicate with it. It wanted...people. Lots of people. At first Exogeni tried to placate it with one or two, but once it told us it could unlock the secrets of the Protheans...the Alliance stepped in. "

Shepard paled. "How did the Alliance 'step in', Bea?"

Beatrice turned away again. "They sent over 1000 .. rejects...from the Penal Legion. We agreed that a colony would be made, the Thorian would dominate it. In return for … subjects...it would implant certain of it's colonists with the knowledge of the Protheans. In six months, we made more progress on the Mars Archive than we did in 20 years. The Alliance didn't care how many prisoners died."

Beatrice frowned. "Exogeni was... nervous. The Board was worried , although it wasn't because they thought the Alliance would sell us out. Exogeni was dealing … for some reason … with Cerberus."

Shepard hissed. "Why?"

"Cerberus was able to provide us with technology to … counteract the Thorian's effects in some cases. We sent them sample thralls to see if they could do anything at reversing the effect. And they aided us with supplies. We couldn't 'announce' our findings after all. Everything was kept off the books. All records of the facility were purged everywhere, except for HQ. And all that was at HQ was … distributions of income and the ships that carried our supplies here and 'researchers' out."

Shepard nodded. "Someone must have tipped Saren about the Thorian...which pretty much confirms that Cerberus is working with the fucker. They raid the HQ, figure out what ship to hit, and then hit this place hard." She paused. "But Jeong said it was stubborn. Will it work with Saren?"

Beatrice shrugged. "Who knows what Saren will offer it? Or has offered it? If I'm reading this battle scene right, it looks like the thralls supported the Geth. I know this. The thralls are dangerous. The people, while alive and not corrupted, can fight with all their normal skill, but the Thorian can turn off their pain , even stop their bleeding for a while, if they're infected enough. And the plant things vomit powerful acid, and take a lot of killing."

Shepard sighed. "Bea, there's no way we can cover this up, even if I was fucking inclined to. Any Council team that takes a look at this shit is going to freak the fuck out." Her voice hardened. "And Penal Legion rejects? I thought a lot better of you, Bea."

Shields gave her a disbelieving look. "Don't start with me, Sara, goddammit. I was destroyed by fucking Torfan. I lost everything I fucking had, and the Alliance didn't want to have anything to do with me. What goddamned kind of future can I have, huh? Exogeni took me in, took a chance on me, cleaned me up. They always respected me. And they certainly didn't ditch me for a fucking traitorous tart on a whim like you did. And as far as using the rejects, Humanity has to fucking advance somehow. The Thorian was a goddamned shortcut. They were fucking dead anyway, at least this way they did a service for humanity."

Shepard gritted her teeth. "You're killing people in the name of goddamned human advancement? Funny, that's usually the tag line I get from , y'know, _Cerberus._... what the fuck happened to you? You used to freak out every time I had to sacrifice soldiers to get the job done – "

Bea's eyes flashed storm gray behind her faceplate. "I was wrong!" She turned, making sure no one was paying much attention to their conversation, but Garrus was examining bodies, and the rest of the team was headed back outside to set up defenses. Only Liara stood in the doorway, a grim expression on her face, but Shields ignored her to turn back to Shepard. "You always made the hard calls and put yourself right in the shit, and I always called you out on it, when it got people killed. But maybe you were fucking right and I was just goddamned stupid. All I know is that without this, humanity would be a lot further behind, and sooner or later if geth are running around killing everyone that's going to be bad."

Shepard stepped back. "The end never justifies the means, Bea. I'd have thought you of all people would fucking grasp THAT much. You end up a walking pile of shit like me if you do that." Shepard glanced around, shaking her head. "And for what? Progress? One of these poor bastards could have been **us **in different circumstances."

Shields merely laughed. "I've grown up a lot since Torfan, Shepard. I see how sick everything is now, and how meaningless it is. I've seen shit worse than Torfan since I started working for Exogeni. The bottom line is that we did what we had to do. I'm not proud of it. I'm not happy about it. But I've told you what the stakes are. The Alliance has Exogeni over a barrel, and Exogeni has us over a barrel. If this gets out, you think the Council will take it calmly? Or the governments forming the Systems Alliance?"

Shepard squeezed her eyes shut. "You're asking me to cover up a crime, Beatrice." The woman across from her gave a sudden exhale, and then carefully placed her hand on Shepard's shoulder. "No, I'm not, Sara. I'm asking you to realize this isn't 10th Street. You can't kick in the teeth of the thug behind this. You said you have to stop Saren, right? You think the Council and the SA will focus on that if this blows up in their face?"

Shepard just looked at Shields for a long moment. "...fine. And after I've killed that fucker, Beatrice, someone is going to pay for this …. shit."

Beatrice gave a sardonic smile. "If you say so." She turned away, tapping the console again. "At any rate, the larger problem we have is that it looks like the thralls took this place out, and then geth came in and accessed the computers." She tapped another console and scowled. "They were looking up records for employees with access to the testing logs, for some reason. Don't know why."

Shepard frowned. "If the thralls are working with the geth, then that means Saren has already convinced this thing to work for him." She paused. "I can think of one way to make this right. If this thing is supporting Saren, it dies. Blow it, blow this place, blow any sign of the damned thing, get whatever Saren got, and then say the destruction was due to the geth."

Beatrice looked at her a long time. "That will cost us-"

Shepard made an angry slashing motion with her hand. "What? If it's gone over, it's an enemy. And dealing with this thing is going to blow up in your face sooner or later. With the HQ blown up and no one else knowing what happened, we shut it down NOW. The fuckers who started it are dead, probably, and I can deal with whatever SA fuck thought this would be a good idea in my own time."

Beatrice said nothing, but Shepard strode away, tapping her omnitool. "Flight Lieutenant, come in."

"Here as always, Commander … kill any geth for me yet?"

Shepard gave a small smirk. "Not so much, Joker. I need an inventory of how much high-ex we have on board. We are going to need a lot more than I thought. There's contamination down here and we can't just leave it laying around."

"I'll find out, Commander."

Shepard strode to the doorway, Liara falling in behind her and Shields, and strode to the Mako again. "Slight change of plans. What happened inside is due to contamination. The spores we are being on guard against." Garrus tilted his head, armored faceplate blank, but said nothing, and Shepard continued. "We can't just leave this stuff laying around. Kaiden, I want this building blown with high-ex, that much fire should clear the place out. Set up a force field and the air-filtering kit from the Mako we packed once that's done and dig in. Until then, we're still at cat 5 biological hazard alert."

Kaiden nodded. "Understood , ma'am. Should we use the det-charges we have or..."

Shepard shook her head. "Joker's seeing what we have in inventory for hi-ex incendiaries. Use those, we may need the det-charges for something … else." She paused, then nodded to herself. "Garrus, Ash, get moving to the colony. Maintain distance, however. There..." she paused, then sighed. "There is a very high chance the colonists are already infected. From what I've been told, death is a mercy at that point. You are authorized to use deadly force on anyone or... anything...that discovers you. Try to reach the outskirts and then hold position."

Garrus nodded, and then he and Ashley swung away. Shepard turned to Master Chief Cole. "Let's get this going so we can move on the HQ as quickly as possible. " She sighed. "The quicker we get off this goddamned planet, the better."


	46. Chapter 40 : Feros , Investigation

_**I figured as long as I'm in the writing mood, I might as well get as much done as I can. Feros is not going to follow the story as told (AU, duh) but more than that, I want Feros to build the tension and make the stakes known. **_

_**The silly "save or kill the stupid colonists" thing never resonated with me. They're colonists with shitty weapons, there is no reason to kill them when you could stun them unless you're a goddamned bloodthirsty psychopath. They are aren't even that much of a threat on Hardcore. At the same time, I wanted to give Shepard a number of ugly moral choices to make, and illustrate how her thinking differs. **_

_**To get to the awesome fight scene I want though, there's a lot of tedious set up. I apologize for that, but … this story isn't JUST about Liara and Shepard , or Shepard and Garrus, or even Master Chief Cole fucking up anything that gets in his way. It is a re-write of ME as I wished it had been and so there's still a while before things get steamy. Or awkward. **_

* * *

**January 29th , 2183 9:45 A.M.**

Ashley carefully sighted down the scope of her sniper rifle, the delicate blue haptic cross-hairs adjusting for angle , elevation and windage, coming together in a perfect X just as she held her breath to pull the trigger. The heavy Scythe jerked in her arms as the geth she hit came apart in an explosive blast from the hi-ex round that splintered it's chest apart. With a digital scream, it fell off of the skyway into the endless clouds far below.

Garrus chuckled, even as she coolly vented heat and shipped the rifle. "You're pretty good with that gun, Chief". His hands cradled his own massive sniper rifle almost lovingly as he stepped out from the ruined half-wall they had crouched behind for her to line up her shot. The Prothean skyway was riddled with bunkers and defense areas, as if the entire city had been built to fight some invader. Tunnels, over-passages, and sunken-in bunker like areas were _de rigour _, apparently.

Ash rolled her shoulders and suppressed a frown. She didn't like the big, weird alien dinosaur-chicken, but she had to admit he was a nasty customer in a fight. Their scouting mission had gone fairly well, but several times geth troopers or rocket troopers had nearly gotten the drop on them in close range, and each time the Turian had savagely dispatched them. His pistol was nightmarish in power, and his technical skills – infernos and detonations, grenades, augmented blasts or a hard downward smash by the reinforced steel butt of his weapon, even once with a thrown piece of masonry that had pitched a geth right off the edge of the wide bridge – had shown his flexibility.

They had traded off in who took point, and despite his praise, she knew full well he could hit things further out than she could, and his rifle was devastating. "Thanks, Detective. You're the best shot I've seen in a while." Garrus gave the turian equivalent of a smile, although it was unseen behind the blank mask of his helmet, but she could hear it in his voice. "Well, not to brag, but I am the best shot I've ever seen. Although I have heard Shepard is supposed to be really nasty with a sniper rifle, too..." He trailed off, as if fishing for information.

Ash settled for grunting, and moving in a crouch to the next set of cover. "They say the Commander is a good shot, although I've only really seen her doing that flying biotics shit. She punched out a Geth Prime on Eden Prime, after charging into over 70 geth." A pause as she cleared a corner and smoothly advanced down a broad staircase, broken masonry strewn in her path. "Watching her fight is...it's like watching a volcano erupt."

Garrus only nodded, his heavy blue-tinted armor clashing with the cool white stonework, and trying to keep into shadows as a result. While big and bulky, he was clearly experienced at staying in cover. His full-face helmet turned to face her, shaking his head as he did so. "I'd seen coverage of some bits of Eden Prime, but...I don't know. Talking with Wrex, I keep getting the feeling I'm not seeing the person she used to be. I mean, she can certainly fight, but … she certainly wasn't what I expected. A giggling , blood drenched monster with a shotgun in each hand maybe, but not … her." The flanged voice was tinged with admiration and reverence, and Ash couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Still, she agreed, in a way. Part of her understood exactly why Garrus was so impressed. Shepard had been very aggressive, true, and reserved, but she had come out of her shell to try to help Ash in a way no one else had before. And all the stories spoke of her being psycho, or bloodthirsty. "Well, Detective, she's … unique. She told me … about herself..." Her voice trailed off , and she shook her head. "I don't think we can understand her, not like a normal person."

Garrus paused, bringing up his sniper, the white-hot shot lancing out, catching a crouching geth figure squarely in the chest and sending it spinning head-over-heels across the Skyway. With a second, dismissive gesture, the turian fired a second shot, blasting it's companion in half, and turned back to Williams. "She's just..not what I expected. But I like it. And I think with her as a Spectre, a lot of aliens who had preconceived notions about your people are going to find them very wrong. I know there's a lot of bitterness over the Re... over the First Contact War. But from what I've seen so far, humans are just..people. Like the rest of us."

Ash spent a long second considering that, thinking of her own words back on the Citadel. Her talk with Shepard about the place of the aliens on board, even the uncomfortable stares with Wrex in her armory. She hadn't missed the near-slip the turian had made – most turians called the events around Shanxi the Relay 314 incident, a term that infuriated humans. But he went out of his way to use the human term.

She smiled. "People , huh? Well, thanks, Detective." Garrus merely chuckled.

Ash carefully stepped around the corner, drawing in breath as the colony came in to view. "We're here." Sweeping her scope around, she surveyed the ramshackle buildings and two partially disassembled colony ships slowly. "People walking around...oh god, what the fuck."

Garrus frowned, and Ashley stepped aside, so he could get in close, letting him see for himself. With a grunt the former C-sec officer put his own rifle up, peering through the scope. He saw humans down there, mostly hunched over...many with large growths over eyes, mouths, hands. He also saw dug-in geth units, including an armature. But that's not what caught his eye.

A slender, pale gray turian frigate was parked just outside the colony. It was emblazoned with Saren's personal sigil, a modified Spectre crest worked into the turian characters for "unflinching duty". Grimly, Garrus swung down to cover and crouched down even lower. "That's Saren's ship, Chief. That means he's here, or some of his flunkies are. Do we wait for Shepard, or try to contact her?"

Ash bit her lip nervously inside her helmet, then shook her head. _Too much risk that it would be picked up. Gotta wait for the Skipper. _"We'll hold here, as instructed..."

Garrus frowned. "And what if he lifts off while we wait? No one will even know to look for his ship. And if she knew about this, she might hurry up or change her options?"

Ashley hesitated, and then cursed. "You stay here and keep watch. I'll head back down a ways, and use a tight-beam to contact Joker." Garrus nodded, flopping onto his stomach to set up a sniper's watch, and Ashley carefully slunk back towards the skyway.

* * *

Saren leaned impatiently against the ruined doorway, watching Shiala being .. consumed, he supposed was the right word, or whatever the Thorian did to those it ate. The underground chamber was large, high and vaulted, with lots of crude tunnels dug off in different directions, and crowded with dozens of the Thorian's plant-like thrall creatures. He was thankful for his helmet , as the air was thick with decay, spores, and spirits only knew what kind of smells. Foul, green-laced slimy water dripped in rivulets down the walls to pool in murky puddles all over the floor, mixed in with human bones and other, less identifiable detritus.

He felt as if his mind was fairly clear...time spent away from Sovereign itself was clearly a good thing for his mental clarity. He was ready to move to the next step, finally having made real progress in his search for answers. He smiled at Benezia, who stood to his left, and then glanced over to his right, where Ganar Skal only glared back.

The huge krogan was standing impassively, his night-black and scarlet armor scuffed but clean, the clunky mass accelerator cannon slung across his back as he folded his arms. If Saren was the brains and the tactics of the group, and Benezia it's finances and soul, then Skal was it's beating, violent heart and manpower. It was his command of Clan Ganar that gave Saren krogan forces to work with, and it was his driving belief in Saren's promises that had allowed such ruinous research on krogan infertility and cloning to allow for the "cure" of the genophage that had been constructed. Bitter and hateful, Skal seemed to be resisting indoctrination better than either he or Benezia, whether from sheer rage or some krogan innate resistance was yet to be seen.

A geth servitor called out. "We have lost an additional 3 units in the past 1200 seconds, but none in the past 500 seconds. Geth units reported two figures, one human and one krogan." Ganar unfolded his arms. "That means they're getting closer. Saren, how long is this … thing... going to take?"

Saren merely snarled inside his helmet, eyes fixed on the Thorian. With a shudder, the plant finished it's "meal", a thick lump of flesh-plant matter erupting out of the wall. It's mental voice lanced out, painfully, to reach Saren. "your...offer...better than that of...humans. Distrust. Worry."

Saren stood up straight, approaching the disgusting creature but stopping at a safe distance. "We've already offered you one asari. Think about it. Humans are short lived, pitiful animals. The Asari live a thousand years, and are both naturally biotic and durable. Not only will you be able to experience the wider world again, you won't have to spend all your time replacing your...thralls. All we need is a way to comprehend this … beacon."

The massive plant shuddered, gasses exhaling. It's form was nothing more than a huge trunk, some 50 feet across, which branched into thousands of long, winding limbs that had sought purchase in the wall of the pit it was in. It's surface was a mix of greens, browns, pinks, and reds, some of it looking plantlike, other parts fleshy, still other parts almost mineral looking. Ripples of some kind of fluid pulsed through it obscenely as it finally answered his words. "...you … are not … trustworthy."

Saren nodded, much to the shock of Benezia. "I am not holding myself up to be someone you should trust blindly. Which is why I've given you the asari for free." He gestured to the 4 other members of the commando team that had been picked for sacrifice, each one already thick under the grip of indoctrination. "But we've read what Exogeni had planned for you. Already you get abused, mistreated human criminals, ignorant of everything. They plan to start introducing chemicals into them, trying to see if they can make you more...tractable. You don't have to trust me , since I only need one thing from you, not a long term relationship. I just need … knowledge."

His voice was grave and convincing, and the Thorian gave a series of shudders, before the tube that was at the "front" of the creature began shaking. The lithe form of an asari slithered out, nude as the day she was born, a delicate pale green in color and dripping in slime from the recreation. Benezia gave a start, but Saren only watched closely as the faux asari came right up to him, eyes wide.

"...this is an acceptable trade, meat. We will show you what you need to know. But it will take...time."

Saren sighed. "Of course. I'm astonished I don't have to fetch something first. Let's get this over with, plant, it can't be any worse than the Beacon."

* * *

The Exogeni HQ turned out to be … mostly abandoned. _Just what I needed, a spooky abandoned tower full of geth. _Shepard's thoughts were dark, even as she gripped her weapon more tightly.

Shepard had been expecting a fight, even hoping for one, anything to get the ugly knowledge of what Exogeni had done here out of her head. Taking the Mako over the skyway to the HQ had involved taking out two small groups of geth sentries , and arriving at the HQ only summoned eerie silence.

Tali and Liara had stayed in the back, as Shepard and Shields moved forward in overlapping cover patterns. The HQ building had been rebuilt from a tall, Prothean tower, lavishly refitted with every luxury and heavily filtered from the outside. The lobby was floored in real wood, clean white steel walls covered with corporate logos and wide windows giving a stunning view of the clouds below, broken only by the occasional Prothean tower.

The lobby was now a mess, of course, with bodies flung everywhere in the aftermath of what had been desperate battle. The walls were full of bullet and accelerator holes, scorch marks, and various splashes of red or white. Geth were slumped in corners or blasted apart on the floor, but more Exogeni mercs and dozens of civilians also lay dead. Shields scanned the room and then came out of her combat crouch. "It's clear." She walked ahead, through a scanning field, and a fine mist of droplets sprayed over her armor as a laser beam played over her form. "Built in light decon. There's a full decon we'll have to go through to get any further into the building than this , though."

Shepard nodded, slinging her shotgun, and motioned Liara and Tali forward. She turned to Cole, still in the main entryway. "Set up inside the Lobby, chief, and wait for us. If you see anything coming this way, give us a heads up."

Cole nodded in return. "Jackson, Rodriguez , Smith, and Patterson. You are still all shot up from Therum. Man the Mako and keep the scans active. Serri, Ownby, Haln, support left with heavy weapons..." Shepard let the man set up the squad and followed Shields over to the front desk, where she was working the computer. "What have you found?"

Beatrice's voice was weary. "About what I expected. No active life signs,but those are keyed only to people who are in armor.. so theoretically, someone could be alive. The decon system is out – geth blew it up to bypass it – so the building is not clear and will need a decontamination cycle before anyone can go in without suits. Security systems are … a mess, but it looks like the geth are all near the transmit rooms and IT center, the rest of the building is showing empty. The parking garage is showing a bypassed door, though... someone may have tried to make a run for the Mako's and TR-4 scout cars. But the main hangar doors are jammed by debris." She paused. "With the rest of the building contaminated, the garage is the only place any survivors without breathing gear could go. It has it's own decon airlock and rooms."

Shepard nodded. "You think someone may have holed up down there? Whoever bypassed the door?" Shields shrugged, and pushed back from the computer. "It's worth checking out, Sara."

Shepard led the four of them through the building, down the stairs leading to the garage. People had been brutally killed here, piled in heaps with head shots, but occasionally more shocking violence had occurred, shade of what she had seen on the volus trade ship. Liara made a moan of disgust as they passed an Exogeni soldier who had literally been pulled into pieces, and Shields flicked the safety off her Avenger. "You mentioned you found Captain Niham's ship..."

Shepard nodded, stepping out from the bottom of the stairs into a metallic hallway carefully, sweeping in all directions with her ODIN shotgun. "Yeah, unfortunately. It was a lot worse than this." She stepped over the corpse of a geth and frowned at the doorway at the end of the hallway. "Why did they stop here, I wonder?"

Shields shrugged, and they proceeded to the airlock. "Warning: contamination detected. Airlock decon procedure required. Please wait for decontamination cycle. " The door opened, and they stepped into the room, and Tali sighed as they saw several more dead humans piled on the floor. The doorway had been hacked shut. Shepard frowned, and gestured Tali forward. "I need that door opened, but I need the decon procedure as well."

"On it, Commander." Tali pulled a set of leads from her belt, hooking them to her omni-tool, and got to work on the panel. Liara kneeled down to the corpses, shaking her head. "Three of these were...children. Goddess."

Shields sighed unhappily. "The … HQ was considered very safe, even safer than the High Dock. Lots of people brought there families, the tower was so large everyone could have fairly luxurious living quarters. Everyone had breathing gear...but that was for minor breaches in containment, not exposure to open air. " She turned one of the bodies over and sighed. "This was the site chief information officer...looks like his omnitool was taken. Goddamn it."

Tali cursed. "Bosh'tet...open!" A moment later there was a chime. "Decontamination in progress." The far door shut, even as bleach sprayed down from above as UV lamps in the walls lit up to brilliant levels. Shepard smiled and patted the little quarian on the shoulder. "Good job, Tali."

Tali nodded, trying not to look at the twisted forms on the floor, as the bleach suddenly stopped and the chamber was vented to vacuum. A moment later, the airlock opened into the garage, spilling out with a mist of vaporizing bleach and cold.

The garage was quite spacious, high beams against rock , with several scout cars neatly parked to one side, but the doors leading out were buckled and bent inwards slightly. A Mako had been shoved up against them, as if trying to push them out of the way, but the black skid marks around each tire showed the futility of that. Slumped next to the Mako was a pair of children and a single woman, who was scrambling to her feet, a pistol in hand. "S-stay back!"

Shields slung her rifle to her back and held up both hands. "It's Commander Shields. Are you okay?"

The woman's arm fell and she almost collapsed. Her once pristine white uniform was stained with blood, but she looked otherwise unharmed, messy brown hair pulled back into a rough ponytail. Her pale skin was set off by brilliant green eyes, but her makeup had run from sweat or crying and she looked exhausted. The two children next to her stood as well, a thin brown-haired boy in a dark black jumpsuit that was clearly her son, and a smaller, younger girl with white-blond hair and skin a shade darker than Shepard. Both of them half-hid behind the woman, whose voice shook as she spoke. "Oh, god. Thank you. Yes...Yes I... I'm fine. I'm Elizabeth Baynham, core...research." She eyed the quarian and then the night-black armor that Shepard wore with alarm. "Where..."

Shields approached slowly. "You don't have a mask on."

Baynham shrugged. "No time. And the computer says the air is clear. There's no masks in the Mako or scout cars, and I had no time to grab anything but my son and Byana here before ..."

Shepard checked her omnitool, scanning the air, before unlatching her helmet and taking it off. The air was stale, full of exhaust fumes and the scent of oil , but that was all. "I'm Commander Shepard, Council Spectre. We've cleared the High Dock and we're here to get rid of the geth."

Baynham started, and then glanced back at Shields, who took off her own helmet and nodded. "You're safe, Elizabeth. Tell us what happened."

The woman frowned. "I was sleeping, and then the alarms came in. I remember you and the reaction force rolling out and the first reports of Geth fighting, and then Director Liang decided to transmit the distress call to Exogeni HQ." She paused. "We were still trying to get an answer when the entire building shook. Geth...just came out of everywhere."

The two children clung to the woman as she continued, pistol still in her hand but held limply. "I got my son, and Byana was with him, and Captain Micha told us to fall back to the secure area. We couldn't get to it, so we came down here. I loaded the children into the Mako and tried to get us out, but the doors were jammed." She pauses. "Then I heard the computer say the airlock had been bypassed shut. I .. I could hear people trying to get in , and then I think the .. .geth...caught them."

She closed her eyes, and Shields placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "You did what you had to, Elizabeth. Do you know anything else about the attack?"

Baynham shook her head. "N-no."

Shepard glanced around, then turned to Shields. "If they don't have hard suits, what's the best way to get them out of here?" Shields frowned, but Liara hesitantly spoke up. "If...if we could get the garage doors open, they could just ride back in the Mako. It is not armed, but...we have cleared the sky way for them."

Shields rolled her eyes. "And how are we going to get the door open, blue? Yell at it? Det charges would drop the garage on our heads." Liara gave the woman a venomous look and then turned back to Shepard. "I .. I believe I can use my biotics on the door, Shepard. If... if you think.."

Shepard looked at the asari for a long moment, watching as she bit her lip, staring at her. She shook her head a bit and then pulled her helmet back on. "Baynham, you and the kids get back in the Mako. Helmets on, people. Liara...let's see what you can do."

Shields gave her an incredulous look even as she put her helmet back on. "Sara, that door is hydraulically locked and weighs over a ton. If it's jammed by a rockfall or something -" Shepard only held up a hand as the civilians entered the Mako and after a moment, it backed away from the door.

Liara, for her part, was standing in the middle of the garage, legs set apart, hands clasped together, eyes closed. She began , very softly, to glow a faint blue. _I can do this. I have to do this. I can show her I am useful, that I am not .. helpless. _With a low exhale, Liara reached for the core of her strength, and the glow went from faint blue to almost blinding for a half second before , with a yell of exertion, she slammed her hand out and willed all of her strength into a single biotic blow.

Shepard's and Shield's eyes both widened for a split second before the door was literally ripped out of the heavy metal walls , crumpled as if by a giant fist, and sent spinning. Sprays of rock and debris that had fallen from where the geth ship had torn into the building to anchor itself were flung away in radial lines of force , even as the door itself spun end over end, before crashing into the edge of the skyway with a heavy clang and stopped. Part of the walls themselves were warped outwards, and the entry way was clear, cold air from outside blowing in as the computer systems began to alarm about contamination.

Liara slumped, even as Tali and Shepard both reached out to catch her, keeping her from falling over, but she shook her head and forced herself to stand. "I... I am alright,. Commander." There was trembling in her voice, but a note of something else, something like faint pride mixed with disbelief. Shepard frowned and turned the small asari's shoulders so she faced her. "Liara, are you sure? That..."

Behind her clear faceplate, those eyes seemed to bore into Shepard, making her feel like she was drowning again. "I .. I am fine. I am just a bit fatigued." She swallowed, looking for some clue of how Shepard felt, but only saw the mirrored face plate, cold, unyielding, iron-like. After a moment she heard Shepard sigh, and with a pat on her arm let her go. "We'll talk about this later, Liara."

Shepard turned away, back towards the airlock, as Shields gave last minute instructions to Baynham over the radio. "Cole, this is Shepard. We have one unarmed Mako coming out of the Exogeni garage – one civilian female and two kids. They'll be rolling by your position. Have two of your marines hitch a ride on the outside and get them back to the High Dock. They are NOT , I repeat, NOT suited for external travel, no air masks or anything. Make sure the Mako stays safe."

Cole's voice came through, clear and calm. "Understood, Commander. We got a report from Joker waiting to clear for you, should I patch you through?"

Shepard glanced back , as the Mako drove out. "Yeah, go ahead." There was a static-filled disconnect, then Ashley's voice. "Skipper, we got a big issue here at the colony. The colonists are...heavily infected, there's ...stuff growing out of them. The geth are dug into the colony and the colonists are helping them. And there's a turian frigate down here that Vakarian says is Saren's own ship. He could be here, Commander."

Shepard gave a sharp inhale of breath. "Thanks, Ash. Hold your position for now, we'll be there as quick as we can." She killed the line, and then patched in Joker. "Flight Lieutenant, I have an order for you." She paused. "Saren's ship may be on planet. If he attempts to leave, you have to stop him at … any cost."

Joker did not reply for a long moment, then his voice came through, steady and calm. "Copy, Commander. We hardly have any missiles left, but...we'll stop him. The Geth destroyer is still in orbit though..."

Shepard's voice was pitched low. "I know, Joker."

Another long silence, then a chuckle. "Don't worry, Commander. I understand the stakes. Could you just .. hurry up and catch him on the ground, though? I like being a hero, but the whole martyr thing is really not my speed."

Shepard closed her eyes and nodded to herself. "I'll do my best, Joker. I.. I'm sorry, if it comes to that." The scoffing sound she heard in reply made her smile. "Your assuming I can't drop one sorry turian ship with guns alone? God, if they make their ships like they do their coffee makers, I can drop him and not even undock. " His tone grew more serious. "I'll let the XO know, ma'am."

Shepard bit her lip and nodded. "Thanks, Flight Lieutenant." She clicked off, to find Tali and Liara staring at her. Tali spoke up first. "...if he gets into space, Joker..."

Shepard closed her eyes. "Joker will stop him one way or the other, Tali. We can't let him escape. Let's get a move on, the more time we're on the ground, the less time we have to get to that colony and shove a rifle into his stupid, pointy mouth."

The team retraced their steps back into HQ proper, then began ascending the levels leading to the communications area. After 12 or 13 minutes of walking through offices and storage areas, they came to a large sloping ramp leading to IT and Communications, as identified by a haptic banner on one wall. Shields took point, swapping her sniper rifle for her Avenger, and Shepard drew her Revenant. "We take it slow and careful. Liara, keep them from getting close to us with your biotics. Tali, do what you can to shut any geth we see down. Let Shields and I do most of the heavy fighting if you can, both of you have light armor."

Tali nodded, but her voice was almost savage. "I'm good at killing geth, Commander." Liara said nothing, but nervously checked her pistol and gave a firm nod.

Shields and Shepard moved up to the top of the ramp, and Shepard exhaled. "Haven't stormed a position with you in a long time, She-bitch". Shields voice was cool, but not unfriendly. Shepard nodded. "Let's hope you haven't gotten soft, girl."

As one, they swung around the corner, sighting down on four geth guarding a barricade. Without even thinking about it, Shepard hurled a biotic throw, catching one geth violently in the head, sending it crashing to the ground, even as she opened up with the Revenant, it's demonic shriek of rapid-fire death stitching blue-white fire across the frames of two more of the geth.

Shields rolled to one side, coming up with her Avenger, placing a neat burst into the head of the far right geth, then launching a tech grenade into the hallway beyond, catching three more rushing forward in it's blast. Bits of scorched armor plate and splats of white fluid came out of the cloud of debris and smoke, even as Shepard rushed forward to the barricade to get into cover. "Move up!"

Liara and Tali rushed in, even as more geth came up, and Liara reacted first, a quick biotic push at the grated decking the floor was made of. As it lifted and splintered, geth lost their footing, stumbling forwards, and Tali fired an electrical burst from her omnitool, splaying out bits of electronically charged metal to ground into each geth and send out shocks. A moment later a biotic flash of light tore into the geth ranks, sending two flying away brokenly, as Shepard's vanguard charge disrupted their ranks. She put the barrel of her Revenant to the nearest geth's head as it right to right itself, firing at point blank range, sending it to the deck, and ducked as another geth fired a shotgun at her, catching her side in the blast.

She swung to face it but it was hit by a heavy burst of fire from Shields, a shotgun blast from Tali, and several pistol shots from Liara all at once, flying back to the far wall in a splintered heap leaking white cooling fluid, staining the wall as it slid down it , the light in it's eye dimming slowly. Shepard stood , wincing, and Shields came up. "I expected more of them, honestly."

Shepard nodded … "unless they're almost done here. Let's move out." They proceeded down the hallway , to where IT once was in the building, and Shields came to an abrupt stop.

One large wall had been torn away, replaced by the bulk of the geth cruiser attached to the side of the building. Heavy cables and large, insectile pylons pierced the building in a number of places, the second floor of the IT room shattered and crumbled to the floor. Heavy, blue metal curved pieces dominated the walls, snakelike cables almost obscenely jacked into the buildings mainframes and greenish angular overlays infesting the normal orange-glowing haptic interfaces of the computers.

Tali looked around, almost at a loss, before heading to one of the terminals. Shields , on the other hand, went to the communications array computer, typing something as she brought up a haptic interface. "Fuck, signals are still jammed. It's coming from that geth ship."

Shepard turned to Tali, who was slowly moving through the display in front of her. "What have we got, Tali?"

The little quarian shook her head and cursed. "The geth ship has it's mass effect core rigged to blow by a remote signal, Commander." She paused. "And ...the geth brought nuclear detonation devices as well. It's hard to get anything from the system but.. I think they plan to try to blow everything up."

Shepard spat. "Just like on Eden Prime, covering their tracks. Goddamn it. Any way to detach that ship? If it blows up, so does the comm relay."

Tali was again hacking, her gaze switching from omnitool to the display in front of her, which was flickering between normal orange and the greenish geth overlay. "I.. I think so. The geth ship is hooked on in four places, but most of the connections are just external. They actually hooked the ship into the comms relay to transmit a jamming signal. If we can disconnect that, then we can transmit out ourself, and maybe even use the relay to jam any signal to blow up the geth ship."

Shields nodded. "A captured geth cruiser would be a nice distraction for the Council." Shepard only grunted, before nodding. "Do it, Tali. Shields, bring up the comms display, I have a toy I want to use." She pulled up the many , many programs that had been loaded to her omni-tool by the Spectres at their HQ, and loaded up the one she was after. "The Spectre's have a wide-band jamming tool that has per-programmed frequencies it lets through. I'll transmit those to Joker and we can get our signal out and get a move on."

Liara was looking around the room, particularly at the plinth of blue metal at the far end holding a glowing globe. "Shepard...what is this?"

Shepard frowned, as she sent the jamming packet to Shield's omnitool. "No idea. Why?"

Liara's voice sounded worried. "Everything else in the room is recognizable, but why would the geth set this up and have it hooked to their ship?" She circled around the device, examining it closely, and began taking scans. Shepard chuckled. "Not a lot of time to stop and research right now, Doctor."

Liara nodded absently. "But the geth have not formed any alliances – or even any contacts – with any organic races since the war with the quarians. I just find it very odd that they would suddenly and completely ally with Saren. The Reapers should be a threat to them as well, unless they have some kind of …" She frowned again.

Tali gave a small sound of pleasure. "I'm in! Shutting down their jamming field." She paused, and then tapped a control on her omni-tool, generating a thin-line plasma cutter. "Just let me cut the wires and we can transmit."

Shields nodded. "I'm ready when you are." Shepard turned back to Liara. "What is it?"

Liara's voice dropped in volume as she stood next to Shepard. "I am trying to figure out why my mother would be.. involved in this … nightmare. What if Saren is trying to bring them back because he thinks he can deal with them?" Shepard snorted incredulously. "Then's he a goddamned lunatic. You saw that vision, Liara. They were..." She paused, wincing against the sudden feeling of nausea that rose in her with the vision, and she felt Liara take her arm. "Commander?" Shepard blinked away pain. "I'm fine. Just...still stuff sloshing around in my head." She held up a hand. "We'll talk about it later. Anyway, I've stopped caring about why. They have to be stopped."

Liara nodded, but turned away. "I … know. But … she is my mother, Shepard. I.."

Shepard inwardly cursed, realizing how callous that sounded, and then almost laughed aloud. _What kind of fool expects empathy or curiosity from the Butcher? _"I understand, but right now I don't have any choices, Doctor. Whatever happens, Saren has to be stopped. If we can talk him – and her – into surrendering, that's fine, but if they won't, the Council's orders were pretty clear."

Liara said nothing, looking back at the strange glowing plinth. "I just get the feeling there's something here we are not grasping, Commander. How did Saren get on this path in the first place? Why are the geth helping?" She made a nervous gesture with her hands, and turned back to face Shepard fully. "In my years of research, every time I tried to move forward without understanding why, it ended badly."

Shepard wished she could pinch the bridge of her nose, her head was full of disconnected thoughts. With a slow exhale of breath, she forced her voice to be steady. "And we'll do what we can to find those answers. I promise." She glanced over her shoulder. "Shields?" A pause, then she spoke. "It's up, Shepard."

Shepard stepped to the panel and triggered the broadcast key. "This is Commander Shepard, Council Spectre. I am requesting full fleet assistance at the planet Feros, Attican Beta cluster, Theseus system. The planet has been attacked by geth under the command of Saren Arterius. We have sightings of him on the ground, but we are pinned by at least two geth ships. The ground conditions are a category 5 biohazard. We require immediate assistance."

She put the message on repeat and watched as Beatrice loaded up the jamming program. "Joker, this is Shepard. Frequency 244.3 and 458.3 are clear, all other bands are jammed. I picked our standard ship comms bands but be aware of this. Any movement from Saren's ship?" Joker's voice was slightly distorted by the jamming, but clear."Not yet, Commander. Ash says there's no movement at the colony beyond what they saw before."

Shepard nodded, and turned back to find Tali also examining the glowing ball in the plinth. "Any ideas, Tali? Liara thinks it's important." Tali shrugged. "I .. I haven't seen anything like this before. It's geth but..." She traced her fingers over faint marks on the borders of the metal. "This is quarian writing. They still use our language." Her voice had an odd note to it, but she continued. "It's … talking about their 'gods'. "Nazara comes from our future. Giver-of-Future clears the path of unity. All shall be one, one shall be zero. Giver-of-Future is the only path, the … " she paused "...outcast? Heretic? Shall be left to zero-point energy states..."

Liara whispered. "It's a religious shrine."

Shepard snorted incredulously. "Well, that's a neat scam if I ever heard one. No matter. We'll examine all this stuff later. For now, we have to move out to the colony."

Shields nodded, and Shepard spoke into her comms. "Cole, change of plans. Move your people up here to the communications area. I want it guarded. We have what appears to be an empty geth ship here, rigged to blow, but we're blocking the signal. I need you to guard Tali'Zorah as she works with this to get it under control, and make sure no geth disrupt our comms."

Tali gave her a look but Shepard held up a hand. "Sorry, Tali, but I need you here to make sure that ship is safe. It could give us a lot of information on the geth and how to fight them, and quite frankly we're headed into what is likely to be a biohazard hot area."

Tali nodded. "Yes, commander." Her voice sounded subdued, and Shepard knelt down in front of her. "Hey. You did a great job. I just need to make sure that I have the right experts where they do the most good."

Shields walked up behind her. "So, you and I and the lady doc going after the turian?"

Shepard snorted. "We're stopping to pick up Wrex, too."

Shields rolled her eyes. "Fucking Wrex, Jesus. I about died when I saw that big turtle standing there. This should be an interesting fight." Shepard slung her weapons. "Let's move, people, we got a dumb turian to kill."

They headed down, leaving Tali alone , bathed in the light of the geth shrine, thinking.


	47. Chapter 41 : Feros , Colony

**_A/N: Well, my mother's surgery was this afternoon - and it went very well. The doctor says all of the tumorous mass was contained in one ovary but to be sure they did a full hysterectomy and also removed the other ovary. So that's a HUGE load off my back.  
_**

**_So, a few things: this introduces the other "two heads" of Cerberus. We already are familiar with the Illusive Man, but the mysterious Richard and General Florez also pop up. There will be more expansion of these two, but "Richard" is the really bat-shiat crazy one and Florez is the blood-thirsty one. Compared to them, the Illusive Man is actually quite restrained. Part of this set up is to explain why Cerberus shifted it's focus so much...but part is mostly due to logical changes.  
_**

**_Right now , things are almost 100% AU, but the story will slew back in the general direction of canon after this for a while. I'm just writing now to distract myself. I know Feros is kind of dragging on, but we're almost there. I hated how, in the game, you could never quite catch up to Saren. Regardless of if you hurried from mission to mission or spent weeks shooting up reaper maws, Saren was one step ahead and you were always the Boring Invulnerable Hero.  
_**

**_Updated: 10-25-2012 : some grammar , spelling, tense mistakes.  
_**

* * *

**January 29th , 2183 10:45 A.M.**

"..this is Commander Shepard, Council Spectre. I am requesting full fleet assistance at the planet Feros, Attican Beta cluster, Theseus system. The planet has been attacked by geth under the command of Saren Arterius. We have sightings of him on the ground, but we are pinned by at least two geth ships. The ground conditions are a category 5 biohazard. We require immediate assistance. … "

The signal repeated, the iron-like voice of Shepard echoing faintly across the large room. Elegant marble tiling abutted against wood paneled walls, while ceiling fans efficiently whisked away smoke from the two cigarettes in the ashtray, one of which was picked up by a well-manicured hand.

The Illusive Man inhaled, savoring the rich Virginia tobacco, before chasing it's harshness with a shot of Chevas. "She's … really quite resourceful. It's a pity she was so ruined by those criminals in her youth, she would have made a magnificent operative for us." He brushed a stray ash from his neo-cotton slacks with a small frown, the blue glow of his eyes dimmed as they narrowed to regard the other two figures sitting with him. "It's also a pity that same resourcefulness is being turned against us. . . something you assured us wouldn't happen, General."

General Rachel Florez glared back at him. "Don't start with me, Jack. If I told you once, I told you a thousand times, Sara isn't a simple goon. She'll be relentless in tracking Saren." She brushed back graying black hair from her face, which despite 40 years of service to the System Alliance was almost unlined, the eyes dark and mysterious, the lips thin and cruel, the nose a bobbed touch short of Roman. Her whip-thin frame was clothed in an uniform of Cerberus black and gold, with a Terra Firma gold fist pin on her lapel and a massive pistol at her hip. "I warned you that this course of action was going to lead us in places that would possibly expose us, but you were so sure you could somehow pull her off on some wild goose chase and then guide her to Saren at a time of your choosing."

The third figure shrugged his massive shoulders and gave a cold smile revealing stainless steel teeth. "Rachel, calm down. We know you're upset because of the staged suicide and the reaction of your family, and that you disagree with where we are going." The man stood, stretching as he inhaled on his own cigarette, and his gigantic , 7 foot 2 inch frame blocked the view of the status reports on one wall. "Shepard is exactly what we need her to be, a foil to Saren. Whether or not the turian is telling the truth is immaterial to me. What I want is the geth , subordinate and obedient, and a grateful Citadel Council that puts a human in it's midst, and chaos for us to operate in." He paused, turning to look over his shoulder. "Jack's political scheming and your … wasteful military buildups are your own choices, of course, but we will prevail in the end with our research and with the united human spirit."

The Illusive Man, Jack Harper, and the Iron General, Rachel Florez, gave each other a look , before the Illusive Man raised an eyebrow. "We all agreed on our course of action, Richard. Saying she's a 'foil' to Saren wasn't .. exactly what we planned." A drag on the cigarette, followed by another drink, prefaced his next words. "Saren and I have a . . . history. When he brought his news to us, I thought it a trick. But our investigations bore out his words. To now state that we're merely along for the ride...some of what I've seen in my past, on Shanxi, makes me wonder if he's not onto something we should be paying more attention to."

The man named Richard turned fully to face his angry colleagues, his black-silk shirt loose on his muscled frame, his face in a rakish smile. The planes of his face were cold, hard, and angular, coal black eyes over a hard beak of a nose. Long black hair fell to his shoulders as he spread his large hands in a gesture. "Yes, Jack, I know. And now we have a difficulty. Saren came to us seeking information on how to understand the Beacon's images. We gave him the best lead we had, and he moved on it."

Florez snorted angrily. "The Thorian was our best lead to decipher the Mars Archive, and truly push humanity ahead. If we had spent the money and effort on this that we spent on Saren-"

The Illusive Man shook his head. "And if the turian is right? If he really IS onto something? If there really is a race of machine aliens coming back to destroy everything? As much as I dislike it, the turian's idea holds value. Prove our worth and we can survive this. Prove that humanity is valuable, and we may position ourselves to even greater gains, or at least a better understanding of what we may be facing."

Richard turned away, shrugging. "You're right, of course. As crazy at it sounds, what Saren is saying backs up some of the … things you have encountered, as well as some of our own researches. It doesn't matter that what he claims is going to happen is ... unlikely." He paused, thinking. "Whatever he's going through has taken it's toll on him, that is for sure. It's made him unstable, and potentially dangerous. If the choice is ignoring what he says and making him an enemy, or using him and keeping him where we can put him down if need be, I will choose prudence every time. So yes, we give up the Thorian. And yes it's likely that someone may put two and two together eventually, and figure out that we sold Exogeni out. Certainly Exogeni would know, if any of the executives survived..."

Florez rolled her eyes and tapped on her omni-tool. "We can solve that right now. I'll make sure they're all taken care of." A moment, and she gave a cold little smile. "I doubt anyone survived his attack, but if they did they will be dead in a few hours. So, that's one loose thread solved. That still leaves anyone on site..."

The Illusive Man was still frowning. "I'm not worried about them. They'll keep silent, if only not to get dragged into Citadel Court on war crimes. And once the Council goes in, our operatives can … scrub … some of the databases. But I'm still not following where this is going, as far as what sort of pay off we expect in the long run by betraying our investment in Saren. Let's assume he's right: Saren finds whatever the Beacon is talking about and … brings back these robots?"

Richard laughed. "Of course not. I haven zero intent of allowing him to succeed, and I have no worries that he will. Even with an army of geth, he's needed our assistance many times over. He'll do so again. And when we get a clear goal of what he's doing, and how he controls the geth... well, Shepard will get a well timed hint of his location and dispose of him. The Council will see humanity as heroes, but no one will pay any attention to crazed visions of giant ships." A pause. "What I don't want to do, however, is just write him off as crazy... if the threat is real, yes , we'll stop him, but we'll need to know what to prepare for in the long run."

The Illusive Man finished his cigarette. "That leaves aside the powerful ship Saren seems to control. Capturing that should be our objective. It may even be how he is able to control the geth."

Florez shrugged. "Based on the intelligence we got from the Council report, the geth are answering to someone called Nazara, who isn't Saren. But we've checked all our of databases, even captured a quarian to interrogate... 'Nazara' isn't a quarian word. We're not sure … what it is, but I still think this is a poor idea. We're fumbling in the dark, with unknown variables and a possible end of all life scenario – it's no time for taking risks to capture more assets."

Richard picked up his drink and shook his head, his mane of black hair flying as he did so. "You are too .. conservative, Rachel. We've moved our pieces. Either Saren is successful on Feros, and the plan moves forward, or he's destroyed, and we are the beneficiaries of his labor. And if giant death robots are coming, well, they aren't coming in the near future. We have plenty of time not only to prepare, but to ensure such preparations will leave Cerberus – and humanity – in a stronger place in the aftermath of any such conflict."

Florez frowned. "So you don't believe Saren fully? About the .. Reapers?"

Richard only smiled again, steel teeth flashing. "I think the Protheans may have been wiped out by some AI race, and that Saren has stumbled on to their technology, and that the Protheans recorded their demise. But that was fifty THOUSAND years ago. If such things were out there, they'd have already wiped out all life eons ago."

Jack smirked. "Dr. T'Soni believes that there were earlier extinctions."

Richard only shrugged. "And I believe it's unlikely to happen in our lifetimes, or that of our children or grandchildren. There may be truth to it...but in the end, we're taking all gambles equally. If Saren is right, why, then we aid him and perhaps can find out more of what is actually going on...and if he fails, or is wrong, we – pardon the expression – _reap_ the benefits of our alliance with him. Either way, I plan to win."

The three heads of Cerberus fall silent, as reports begin to come in of a new issue.

* * *

Wrex didn't much care for being bottled up in his armor, standing around doing nothing. He could understand why Shepard was being cautious , but at the same time, if Saren was on the planet, the best thing to do was charge in and catch him off guard.

It was with a sense of relief when he saw the Commander's Mako pull up, and Shepard exit the back hatch. Her armor was discolored on the left side, showing she had seen a fight, but no one looked seriously hurt. Shepard waved Alenko over. "New orders, Lieutenant. Master Chief Cole is guarding the transmission tower, and Tali is there with him. The way back should be clear enough – go ahead and continue to dig in here, but send half the mercs up to the HQ to help dig in there as well."

Kaiden nodded, and was about to go when Shepard caught his arm. "One more thing. If we don't report back in, don't follow up. Joker has orders to stop Saren's ship no matter what, and that may leave you with no ride off the planet. If that occurs, try to strip the comm gear from the HQ and fall back to the High Dock. Citadel fleets should be on their way soon, just..explain what you've seen here."

Kaiden frowned, his faceplate transparent to show his features. "That's …. wouldn't it be better to charge in with the entire squad?" Wrex grinned at that, the human looked soft but there was a core of a warrior in him, still. But Shepard's head shake amused him even more when she spoke. "No , we've got Garrus and Ashley there, with Wrex, myself, Liara, and Shields that's enough. Any more marines or mercs and we start losing mobility and speed, and weight of numbers will only be a hindrance if there's colonists as hostages."

Kaiden nodded and saluted, and Shepard turned to Wrex, as Shields strode up. "We're going after Saren, Wrex. We'll need your help, but I think we've got him cornered."

Wrex only smiled, and unslung his shotgun. "Finally. All this standing around made me hungry."

* * *

The drive to the colony was pensively quiet. Liara was in the corner by herself, head hanging down, still feeling the effects of the biotic toss on the door she had performed. Shields was reassembling her sniper rifle, while Wrex was sleeping as Shepard drove.

They stopped about half a kilometer out, right before the colony outskirts began, and (after waking up Wrex) crouched and walked in cover towards where Garrus and Ashley were. Shepard carefully knelt down next to turian. "What have we got, Detective?"

Garrus grunted. "At least fifteen geth, most of them the trooper type, but two of have rocket launchers. Probably about three hundred colonists. A lot of them seem to be in the main freighter, there was some kind of argument about ten minutes ago among the ones outside, who are all over-grown with … whatever that stuff is on them now. "

Shepard sighted in her own sniper rifle, observing. The colonists she could see were only a handful, most in jumpsuits. They had no breathing protection, and as she watched, one turned to her direction, as it lifted boxes. The skin was mottled and vines seemed to grow over their face, tendrils sinking into their eyes … and more covering the rest of the body, like an obscene floral bloom.

She sighed , and put down her rifle, shaking her head. "I don't think these people are viable, Garrus."

The turian gave her a sidelong look, then nodded, calmly, his blank faceplate unreadable. "I... felt the same way, Commander. But they're your people, not mine."

Shepard scuttled back, towards where the others were, waving Ash and Garrus over. "Alright, here's the situation, people. It looks like most of the colonists are on the ships." She dropped to a crouch, then glanced at Shields. "Give us the layout."

Shields drew a rough map in the dirt with her finger. "The colony is built between two Prothean towers, both of which are anchored to the aqueducts drawing water from the poles. Between the two is a shallow bowl, with two large hallways running below the towers off from it. The northern tower tunnel runs out to the power station and eventually to where supply ships could dock. The south tower tunnel runs past us here – " she points to a break in the stonework, where a ladder has been installed – "and continues on towards a sort of arena."

She draws a shallow line in the dirt."The bowl has walls, and that's where we put most of the colony. The main freighter, the Aquinas Arch, has been mostly disassembled and used for modular housing. There's three rows of that on the far north wall. Below that is the food supply area and a cargo clearing area." She drew another line, this south of the first. "There's more colony shelters along the south wall arching round to the north east. The big ship in the middle is the Demeter's Share, the other freighter, which is still being taken apart and is used for a medbay and offices. It also has a power crane for moving the remaining freight around."

Ashley nodded. "Kinda...sparse...for a colony. Defenses?"

Shields shook her head. "None, really. GARDIAN towers , but that's about it. We had five entire platoons of Exogeni Special Response units on hand, and 15 battle-suits. . ." With a sigh, she laughed softly. "I never would have thought we'd be hit this hard."

Shepard made a vague motion with her hand. "Command sucks, doesn't it?"

Shields turned her head with a glare. "I didn't have to sacrifice my men in a meaningless attack, at least. I suppose I should be grateful for that." Turning back to the map, she pointed. "It looks like your turian's frigate is parked at the near dock...but I don't see any sign of him." She pointed, at last, to the freighter again. "The Thorian is accessed via tunnel below the freighter, which requires operating the crane."

Garrus spoke up. "The geth were setting up several large, bulky crates earlier, one next to each of the big towers." Shepard nodded. "Nukes, we think. They're going to do here what they tried to do on Eden Prime – blow up the evidence. It's not happening." With a deep exhalation of breath, she looked at each one of them and then spoke. "Garrus, you and Ash hang back. Keep on the high round, here and … " A pause, and she pointed to a semi-concealed alcove to the right "... over there. You'll snipe anything that gets past us and ensure we have backup. Wrex, Shields, Liara and I will storm in to the colony. Priority is on putting down the geth...if the colonists interfere..."

Wrex shrugged. "If they get in the way, they die." Ashley gave him an ugly look and shook her head. "We can't just kill innocen-"

Shepard cut her off. "Wrex is right. Anyone trying to stop us is with Saren, and that's not going to happen. Even if every person in the colony dies, millions more will did if he's successful."

Ashley looked stunned. "We aren't even going to try to rescue them, get them help?"

Shields gave her a pitying look. "Those people are rejects from the Penal Legions, and they're infected. I'd strongly advise just shooting them." Shepard interrupted, her voice cold. "My orders are clear. Wrex, take the lead. We'll cover you, Liara, stay between us. Remember – we have to stop Saren. Everything else is secondary."

They all pulled out weapons, and Wrex began moving.

* * *

The assault started well. Wrex charged forward, breaking through the light fence at the colony's edge, leveling his shotgun at the two geth spinning to face him. The giant weapon boomed, blowing the first geth off it's feet and sending it staggering into it's partner, who also stumbled. Wrex wasted no time, hurling a biotic push at the pair and sending them skidding across the hard concrete floor of the colony, only to crash into a pair of colonists, pinning them. A moment later one of his grenades landed next to the stunned pile , a second before blasting them to plasma.

Garrus and Ash fired, focusing on geth trying to bring up more weapons. Shepard charged, a blaze of blue light the only warning before she erupted into the midst of a pack of geth. She ducked under a wild flurry of shots, slamming her ODIN shotgun into the geth's eye and pulling the trigger with a snarl. Even as that geth fell back missing it's head, three more advanced, pulse rifles flaring, sending a cascade of plasma darts raining around Shepard.

With a grunt of exertion, Liara hurled biotic energy up, snaring the half-weakened support beam holding up part of the tower wall, sending it flying. It slammed into one of the geth, bursting the machine apart as the three-meter long metallic spar drove in it's chest, pinning to the ground. The other two geth barely had time to register the loss as several large pieces of Prothean stonework tumbled on top of them, smashing one utterly flat, spraying out streams of white coolant, the other one completely buried, it's voice lashing out in a digital scream.

More geth were moving up, but now Ash and Garrus were into the groove, one dropping shields while the other one took the headshot. Six geth hurtled over a low barricade of crates and boxes, only for three of them to drop instantly – two to headshots, one to a burst of auto-fire from Shields. Shepard smirked behind her helmet as she threw a grenade, the flat disk actually attaching to the eye-lens of the lead geth, who dropped it's rifle to paw at it's head before the hi-ex explosion ripped through the geth, sending shrapnel scything through the ones behind them. Two colonists were also caught in the blast, not even screaming from pain as they were hit, and then shambled forward.

Garrus frowned, going for a knee shot, the heavy wire round literally bisecting the man's leg, but the dead eyes only flickered in his direction as the crippled human now crawled forward. Ashley let out a moan of dismay as she put several shots into the man, finally blowing his head off, in a spray of red blood and disturbingly green fluids.

Shepard waved forward Wrex, and Liara and Shields followed. "These things...aren't even human any more, are they, Bea?"

The woman shrugged, stopping to fire a long stream of shots at a geth rounding the corner with a plasma thrower, sending it to the ground. "I don't think so..." She frowned, as the geth suddenly fell back, covering their retreat with suppressive fire. "The hell...they're falling back towards Saren's shuttle."

Shepard barely had time to register the words before a chorus of low, tortured moans erupted from the cargo ship ahead. She slammed herself into the cover of a nearby pillar, gripping her ODIN tightly. Liara slipped in behind her, while Wrex crouched behind a heavy crate. "The hell is that noise?"

Her question was answered as the doors to the cargo bay of the ship flew open, and a tide of green-tinted humanoids poured out. They didn't even look human, with sloped, heavy foreheads over empty , dark eye sockets of smooth , fibrous flesh. Their arms were too long, hanging below their knees, ending in sharp, root-like claws , and their spines were curved, knobby and deformed, giving them a half-melted, half finished look. They staggered forward, moaning and reaching, dripping with vile, vicious clear green slime that smoked as it smeared over the concrete.

Shepard glared back at Shields. "...Zombies? _Really? _"

Shields answer was to direct a burst of fire in their direction, and the rest of the group followed. Liara and Wrex threw out shockwaves of biotic force, staggering the shambling creatures, while Ash and Garrus opened up with assault rifles, trying to suppress their charge.

The creatures were smashed back , falling in splashes of green, but dozens more came on, unheeding of wounds. Liara lit a group up with a warping field, dark energies eating away at them, while Wrex roared out a Tuchankan battle cry and opened up with his shotgun, the incendiary ammo blasting down three and four at a time, sending them down to the ground , smoldering.

The third wave rushed along, trampling their predecessors into a smoking, green slurry, and reached the group, clawing and vomiting forth green paste that immediately sent alarms off in Shepard's visor. She swung out a biotically charged kick, slamming the one closest to her aside, and ducked under the slash of another to fire her shotgun into it's torso, sending it skidding back with a soccer-ball sized hole in it's abdomen. Two more clambered onto her, while Shields fell out of cover, stammering out curses, firing wildly.

Liara screamed in agony as one of the things dropped behind her and vomited over her back, acid spit seeping into her armor. Garrus cursed , dropping his over-heated assault rifle and pulling out the Talon pistol, putting several shots into the monstrosity, blasting it off of her back, and Liara moaned as she slumped to her knees. Shepard drew back as Wrex blasted away two more lumbering things, raising her omni-tool. "Liara!"

The asari grimaced in pain but shook her head. "I'm... fine." Shepard ran the omni-tool over her back, and applied medigel and then a layer of omni-gel. "Your suit is breached, T'soni..." Shepard bit her lip, trying to figure out how to get the asari back out of the fight, and Liara put her hand on Shepard's arm. "I'll.. .be fine." Exhaling in pain, she forced herself back to her feet, gritting her teeth as she focused her will and sent out another spiraling pulse of blue biotics, slamming six of the Thorian's things back into a nearby low wall. The force her strike broke four of them in half, sending pieces of plant-like flesh and sprays of green fluid in all directions, while the other two were sent spinning over the barricade only to be torn apart by two rapid-fire bursts of Avenger fire from Shields. "We... have to move on. No time for .. " She panted, unable to continue, and Shepard closed her eyes.

_She's right, dammit. _With a snarl, Shepard turned back to the cargo bay doors, pulling a pair of grenades out and hurling them at the stream of figures emerging. "Wrex! Warp the cargo doors shut!" Her words were punctuated by the blast of high explosives, sending bits of green everywhere, as Wrex gestured with his free hand. Blue radiance enfolded the doors, and the slammed shut, crushing two more of the things trying to emerge, even as the metal of the doors deformed and shuddered.

Shepard vaulted the low cover in front of her, activating her omni-tool, slathering the crudely welded doors with rapidly hardening omni-gel. There was the sound of furious pounding from within, and the groan of tortured metal, but the doors held. Shepard pulled the last of her grenades and scattered them on the ground in proximity mode before backing away, looking around.

Garrus came up, a bit of green slime dripping from his left boot where he had kicked in the head of one of the things. "I... I think that's all of them, Commander." He still held his pistol, looking about, as Shields and Ashley came up. "What now?"

Shepard turned back to Liara, who was adjusting something on her omni-tool. "Liara, are you alright?"

The little asari gave a thin smile, visible through the clear faceplate of her armor, her large eyes shadowed with pain and fatigue. "Y-yes... Commander. The armor is mostly intact, and the omni-gel patch you put on it will hold for another few hours."

Shepard hesitated, thinking. "Garrus...we need to figure out our tactical approach here." The turian squared himself to face her. "What kind of spacing do we have in there, Commander Shields?"

Beatrice eyed the C-Sec officer for a long moment before responding. "Not much. Up-close communication with the Thorian was … considered hazardous. Usually, exchanges were done by the Thorian .. absorbing and then spitting out a thrall. It would be conveyed to a interlink nearby where it would review and translate Prothean materials beamed from the Mars Archive. The ship's crane opens a tunnel, which leads to a security room and the materials room. Below that is an airlock, and a set of stairs down to the chamber the Thorian is in. We think it was some kind of meeting space, it's a big area, but the Thorian takes up most of it."

She paused, glancing around, and Shepard nodded. "Alright. Garrus, Ashley, find those nukes Tali was talking about. Get them disarmed and de-linked from their triggering devices. We'll stay in comms, if we run into trouble you can pull us out." Garrus nodded, but Ashley stepped forward. "Is...that wise, Commander? The doctor is wounded -"

Liara gave a frown, forcing herself to stand erect. "Whatever is going on down there, it involves Protheans, Commander. I need to be there." She hesitated, and then firmed her mouth. "And my mother could be there, too."

Shepard gave Liara a very hard , searching look, and then nodded, voice cold. "The doctor will come with us, you and Garrus are the ones with technical training to disarm the nukes...and I need my heaviest hitters as back up in case we chew off more than we can swallow." She adjusted the choke of her shotgun and gestured to the crane controls. "Get moving, people."

Ash swallowed , and with Garrus turned away to find the detonation devices. Wrex grunted and lifted his massive head. "What about these det-packs I've got?" Shepard nodded. "I don't want nukes going off and killing everyone, but I'm not going to let this monstrosity live, either. I plan to get what I need and blow it to hell." She paused to look at Shields, who only gave a weary shake of her head. "I won't stop you, Shepard. If I can get out of this without being executed by the Council, I'll be happy."

Shepard moved towards the crane controls. "You'll be the only one."

* * *

Aboard the Talon's Justice, Saren's ship, Rthar Pectoris shook his head at the geth unit that reported. "So Saren is trapped down there with that plant, and you just retreated?" The turian pilot growled, clicking noises in his throat sounding as his plates ground together, but the geth unit only gave a jerky nod. "Correct. The combat-ability of Saren-Prophet , Benezia-Prophet, and Skal-Captain are sufficient to defeat Shepard-Predator and associated battle entities. We judged it more important to secure exit vehicle against assault or sabotage."

The turian exhaled, his head hurting. Working for Saren was never .. pleasant, but at least he knew where his next paycheck was coming from. Although … he didn't really care about the money any more, not as much as he used to. He dragged his talon along his green markings, his white plated face pensive in the dim light of the bridge.

There was no one else to ask – the asari aboard the ship were damn near mindless, and he neither knew nor cared why. With a sigh, he gestured with his hand to the geth. "Go ahead and get dug in , then. The engines are hot and we're still in good shape, but the amount of ordinance we dropped on the Exogeni HQ and then to take out the cruisers in orbit … we don't have enough missiles for a real fight."

The geth paused. "Shepard-Predator engaged geth forces upon system entry. We still have one destroyer and one frigate operable, one heavily damaged cruiser that is currently making repairs. We believe that we can dissuade any pursuit from Shepard-Predator's warship."

The turian nodded again, and flung himself back down in the pilot's seat, triggering the comms console. "Master Saren...we have issues."

Saren's growling voice did not respond, instead it was the dulcet tones of Benezia. "Now is not a good time, Cera Rthar. Saren is … occupied."

The turian gave a snort. "And he's about to be more occupied – Shepard got past the geth and the plant things and is headed your way. She's got people topside roaming about, probably looking to take out the nukes, and we can't raise the HQ tower. I'm assuming that means we're about out of troops and time...madame."

The comm was silent, then she spoke again. "Shepard is coming by himself?"

Rthar's mandible flickered. "No. There is a krogan, a turian ,two humans, and an asari with her...looks like the turian and one of the humans is looking for the nukes." He stopped talking, as he heard a grunt and then a new voice, that of the krogan. "A krogan? Describe him!"

The geth spoke. "Blood red heavy armor, no shoulder pads, a long black assault shotgun. The helmet is black and red. The battle-attendants of Shepard-Predator referred to this one as 'Wrex'". The low chuckle that came back through the comms was chilling, but nothing compared to the icy hate in the krogan's voice a moment later. "Urdnot Wrex...get the ship ready, turian. We'll deal with that old fool and Shepard too."


	48. Chapter 42 : Fleet Master Ivan Dragunov

_**A/N: You can't have SaBC without … Westerlund News! The Fleet Master's name is a subtle shout out to another Fleet Master. **_

_**The next chapter after this will close out Feros. Sorry for not updating sooner, but my mom's still recovering and work got a bit hairy. The next update should be out in a day or two, then one right after that, then we'll have to see. **_

_**Updated 11-1: minor formatting  
**_

* * *

**January 29th , 2183 10:50 A.M.**

DOWNLOADING: Data feed, prime broadcast segment 54, terminal date 2183.29.9

_Manifest dump 565482-core beta, unclassified_

_This is an official Systems Alliance data capture dump , replication or rebroadcast is restricted._

_Transcript begins, identifiers J: al-Jilani U : Donnel Udina I: Irrissa Te'Shora D: Ivan Dragunov_

_Keywords: geth, Butcher, Spectre, Therum, T'soni_

BEGIN:

"Westerlund news! All the news , fit or unfit to print, 24/7!"

J: "Good afternoon. I'm **Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani**, Westerlund News Network. Today we're covering the top story on all the comm-links : freshly released footage from the distant colony world of Therum, where it appears Commander Shepard has thwarted what we are being told was possibly forward reconnaissance for another Eden Prime style attack."

J: "Today, we have Irrissa Te'Shora, sub-adjunct to Asari Councilor Tevos. And we also have Ambassador Donnel Udina, Humanity's representative to the Citadel Council. Finally, on vidcom we have the Alliance Fleet Master, Admiral Ivan Dragunov, who has additional information for us.

Video of Normandy engaging geth on the ground while Marines continue a firefight, Mako in background taking down Colossus

J: "What do we know about what transpired on Therum, Ambassador? Right now all we have is some security footage and a lot of speculation based on orbital pictures from some volus ships, including wile rumors about a geth invasion."

U: "Our information comes from the report Commander Shepard filed with the Citadel council yesterday. She was dispatched to Therum to rendezvous with a Prothean research expert, Doctor Liara T'soni."

J: "T'soni? Isn't that a relative of the Matriarch Benezia T'soni, who is now wanted as an accomplice of Saren Arterius?"

U: "Correct. We have already performed extensive background checks on Dr. T'soni. The last time she saw her mother in person was almost 20 years ago. At this time, C-Sec does not feel she is a threat, and her field of research was deemed valuable in figuring out what Saren's goals might be with the Prothean Beacon he attempted to steal."

J: "I see. And was the Commander successful in her mission?"

U: _nodding_ "She was indeed, Ms. al-Jilani. It appears that the Prothean dig site the doctor was working at had come under attack by geth, who were in the process of fortifying it. It's possible, although we are still investigating, that Saren planned to kill her off to prevent any useful intelligence from reaching us, as well as possibly launching an attack on Therum itself."

I: "I should interject here that C-Sec and STG task forces are still investigating the site, but the geth had landed in excess of 100 units, and they had at least two dropships. Council response forces flushed out and destroyed 2 geth cruisers in the system's asteroid belt, and Commander Shepard reported additional forces in the dig site itself."

U: _nodding to Irrissa_ "Most importantly, Doctor T'soni was rescued and is now onboard the Normandy, aiding in the investigation and pursuit of Saren. In fact, she has already proceeded to a new objective and her last transmission indicated she was closing in on Saren's whereabouts."

J: "Impressive stuff. The footage we have from security cameras at the dig site indicates it was a very nasty battle, and the Commander's ship actually was taking heavy ground fire. Given the amount of threat possessed by Saren, is one small frigate enough of a response, even one commanded by Shepard?"

D: "It is not merely one "small frigate", ma'am. The SR-1 is the single most advanced ship in the entire Alliance fleet, and packs the armament load out of a heavy destroyer. It's nimble and agile, and it has the ability to penetrate enemy space without being detected. It's exact capabilities are , of course, classified , but I can say that it's more than a match for just about anything short of a dreadnaught it can run into. Furthermore, this isn't really about ship combat. Once Shepard tracks Saren down, the Citadel and Alliance fleets are on hot standby to move in. I don't care how many geth he has or how big his ships are, nothing is going to stand up to 20 dreadnaughts and over 200 cruisers. "

I: "More importantly, Shepard's quick action thwarted whatever it was Saren was trying to do, which gives our supporting STG and C-Sec investigators more time to find out further details of his plans. He's on the run, and we expect to have him in custody soon enough."

J: "That's reassuring news to the colonies, I can tell you that. But the reactions on Palaven and Thessia still continue. Yesterday we had an interview with Matriarch Thiala , who claimed that the charges brought against Matriarch Benezia were completely speculative and unsupported. How does the Council plan to proceed when and if Saren and Benezia are brought into custody?"

D: _chuckling_ "Shepard isn't known for taking prisoners, ma'am, and I strongly doubt that Saren is going to surrender. We're fully aware of the strife this has caused , not just on the capital worlds but in many places. Saren was a damned hero in my books for many years, and my own granddaughter was a follower of some of Benezia's teachings."

D: _pause with a grim look_ "But that doesn't change the fact that we have extremely hard evidence – financial transactions, recordings of their voices that have been triple checked, eyewitness accounts, and now ship transactions paid for explicitly by Saren and Benezia. People have a right to be upset, and if they are brought in – or killed – I would expect the Alliance and Citadel to jointly release the evidence we've gathered proving their guilt."

I: "That is indeed the intent of the Council. However, doing so now would reveal methods and sources we are not prepared to put at risk. I will say this: the demonstrators on Thessia and Palaven are at best misguided. To suggest that somehow the Council is 'favoring' humanity is not true. I have heard complaints from the volus and the hanar, but the realistic truth is that to contribute to the Council requires more than merely financial efforts, it means having the military force to help us defend and settle the galaxy. Regardless of what any race thinks, the humans have been more effective at that in a short span of time than any other species."

J: "Understood. But I come back to my earlier point, about the level of response. There are other demonstrations and complaints: specifically, independent colonies are upset nothing has been done to secure their space, and the Corporate Court issued a very strong statement about the "unhelpful attitude" of the Council and the Alliance in terms of protecting their interests. Just yesterday there was a savage geth attack on the corporate headquarters of the Exogeni company, which left over 1300 people dead, and two minor geth attacks on the digs at Chros, which were driven off by Blue Suns security forces. How much effort – aside from Commander Shepard – is being made to stop the larger geth threat to these independent areas?"

U: _irritated_ "Ms. Al-Jilani , the only alternatives we have at this juncture are to respond to events as they happen. We are no in position to go on random hunts for geth when that exposes other colonies to invasion, not just from geth but from all the other unsavory parties in the galaxy, such as pirates, slavers, and rogue mercenary groups. Commander Shepard has our most advanced ship – "

J: _interrupting_ "Which was pointed out before, and doesn't answer the question. The public isn't really concerned about the political maneuvering. Comm buoys and 'rapid reaction fleets' and additional mechs sound good on paper, but there are over a thousand people dead and hundreds more wounded in the Exogeni attack. Is the Council sure that taking out Saren will stop the geth threat to our homes? Dr. David Archer felt otherwise."

D: "Ma'am, to be blunt, we don't know. And I probably should not say this, but if the public has expectations then they need to understand and accept the realistic limits. The very ugly truth is that Exogeni got hit because they made it very clear they didn't _want _Alliance or Council ships or forces anywhere near them, out of fear of 'industrial espionage', which is likely meaning they were doing something they didn't want anyone to find out about. Same with Ilium, Noveria, Bekenstein, and most of the corporate worlds, and the fringe colonies who refuse to participate in the Systems Alliance colony continua." _angry expression_ "If we're not allowed to do our jobs, then people are going to suffer, and that is due to the corporations, not a lack on our end."

J: "And you don't feel you have a duty to protect the people on these worlds?"

D: _lifts chin_ "Ma'am, I am the Fleet Master of the Alliance Navy. My job is to protect the Systems Alliance core and affiliated worlds, protect the peace and uphold SA law. It's all well and good to play games with words, but I have zero interest in that. If corporate worlds won't allow our security forces in, then they can deal with the ramifications themselves."

U: _looks very agitated, but is cut off by Iressia_

I: "The Council has already made their position on this very clear. The Citadel fleet cannot and will not be broken up to safeguard independent entities. Colonies who refuse to follow Citadel laws and regulations or to pay Citadel taxes and fees cannot and will not be offered assistance."

J: "You don't think that's inhuman? There are millions of people in the unregistered colonies-"

U: _harshly_ "They wanted to be independent? Let them do so. They want to ignore calls for aid when we get hit by pirates, to ignore calls for support when we need help evacuating colonies from a natural disaster, then expect us to help them? Not a chance. The Corporate Court has been investigated and fined 19 times in the past six months by the Spectres for violations of Citadel law and it has the arrogance to upbraid us? Outrageous."

J: "That is, sadly, little comfort to millions of colonists who do not control the choices the corporations make, or the charters of independent colonies."

D: _snorts_ "Then if you're watching and you're in that situation, get out of those places now. It's up to the individual to choose. But I'm pretty tired of these so-called 'sovereign sentients' who rail against big governments and 'alien overlords' and basically a hundred undertones of Terra Firma-ist racist garbage who are the first to scream for help when they're in trouble..."

* * *

With a sigh of disgust, the vidscreen was cut off. "They are nothing if not predictable." Tetrimus' voice was pitched low, almost a growl, his stance stiff and unmoving in the black robes. The dimly lit room he was in, illuminated only a by a large array of status screens and the power conduit in the ceiling, was almost sepulchral.

"It does not matter. Everything has been put into the proper place. Infiltration teams 4, 5, and 11 will move into the Exogeni wreckage in two hours for data salvage. Monitoring team six reported Cerberus assassins taking out off-world Exogeni executives, we'll have them picked up and debriefed." The voice was smooth, but almost gutter, icy in tone and filled with a basso power that made the turian's spurs flex with instinctual tremors. Tetrimus did not reveal this, of course, only nodding. "Understood. And then?" The massive figure behind the desk spread a massive three fingered hand, the bisected wrist bones twisting as it rotated in a 'throw away' gesture. "Liquidate them once we've learned what we need."

Tetrimus nodded again. "What about Shepard? Wrex's last report indicated they were going into a combat situation on Feros. . . and the message we just intercepted indicates Saren might be on the ground. Do we act?"

The Shadow Broker placed both massive hands on the desk , eyes faintly glowing in the dim light. "No. We wait. But I want shadowing teams covering every FTL lane and mass relay point out of the system. I want Saren's base location and I want it before we give it to Shepard to wreck. I must know why Saren is pursuing his course of action before committing the Broker Network fully to any decision."

Tetrimus tapped some controls on his omni-tool. "What about the … political issues? I can see why the Council and the Alliance are acting this way, but it leaves Saren every unaffiliated colony and corporate world to hide himself on."

The Broker flickered his eyes back to the monitoring screens. "The Alliance is infiltrated by Cerberus. Their reticence has more to do with Cerberus desiring a free hand in recruiting and basing in the unaffiliated colonies than any actual interest in the tax revenues or conscription status of less than 19 million colonists. The Council's perspective is , as usual, more hidebound. Neither Asari nor Turian naval tactics are designed for patrolling defensive measures, and Salarians prefer to strike from stealth."

Tetrimus' mandible twitched. "The idiocy of it offends." To his surprise the Broker gave his version of a laugh, a grumbling, grating wheeze that trailed off into a rattle. "Stupidity is the currency that validates politics, Tetrimus. Go. Execute and return when results are prepared."

Without wasting further conversation, the turian turned and stalked away, robes trailing soot-black behind him. As the door shut with his passing, the Broker pulled up a pair of images, the Binary Helix logo next to the Cerberus logo. Both had the same color scheme, but the Binary Helix logo had the two hexagons aligned, not offset as the Cerberus one did, and the color placements were reversed. The Broker's mouth split open in a triangular shape, lined with razor sharp teeth, and he laughed again.

"All too easy." Tapping a control on his desk, he brought up one of his remote agents. "Get me Lorik Qu'in."


	49. Chapter 43 : Feros, Defeat

_**A/N: I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I've been fiddling with it and I can't make it any better without rest and hitting it again later. Feedback on what I need to fix with it would be very welcome. **_

_**I've had this battle in my head for a while. The whole series of events on Feros made so little sense to me (unlike Novaria , which was well done, and Therum, which was mostly okay) that I always tried to get past it as quickly as possible. IF the Thorian has spores everywhere, why isn't everyone dominated? Why does Saren try to blow up the Beacon and Eden Prime and not take out the Thorian when he has the chance? **_

_**I think this, if not better, at least leaves fewer. . . unanswered questions. **_

* * *

**January 29th , 2183 11:20 A.M.**

Shepard adjusted the choke on her ODIN shotgun as Shields operated the crane, thoughts racing, hands seeking something to do. The area was almost too quiet, her armored feet sliding slightly in the green-spattered muck near the cargo doors next to the crane. The pounding on the doors from the creatures within had ominously and suddenly stopped a few seconds before, and Shepard wondered what was happening.

With a creaking lurch, a segment of ugly gray duracrete was levered out of the way, scrape marks and deep gouges showing this movement was a frequent occurrence. The block swung up, ponderously slow, hoisted by the crane's whining servos, revealing a dimly lit metal staircase leading down, with packed earth walls visible below the concrete foundation the ship above it was parked on. Shepard exhaled and glanced over her shoulder.

Wrex was standing solidly, his battered red armor discolored from the Thorian thralls he had blown to bits. He reloaded his weapon , swapping out his usual incendiaries for a shredder mod that would spray out clouds of hyper-sharpened flechettes in a broad swath. His helmet nodded as her eyes flickered over him.

Shields was locking down the crane, her silvery-grey armor pitted and scored, the Exogeni symbol on the left arm almost invisible under the green gore caked there. Her gray eyes met Shepard's for a moment, blasted, cold, and … wounded, and Shepard looked away. Shields' voice was cold and steady as she spoke a moment later. "It's all clear, and I put a quick password on the controls so someone can't just come along and lock us in."

Shepard nodded. "Good thinking. Garrus and Ashley will be here , of course... but better safe than sorry." She glanced over to Liara.

The asari was nervously checking her pistol. Shepard's lips curled slightly behind her own helmet as she took in the weapon Liara had chosen – an Elkoss Combine Razor, one of the best light pistols on the market. The weapon probably cost a small fortune, but it was an older model , maybe 10 years or more, and didn't have any mods at all. Liara looked up as Shepard considered her, and gave a nervous smile. "Do...do you think my mother is here, Commander?"

Shepard's smile died and she gave an exhale. "Not sure what answer is best, Doctor, so .. .let's just see what we have." She turned as Shields picked up her assault rifle and lead the way down the stairs.

The metal stairs rang hollowly with each step , quickly giving way to a crudely metal-floored pathway that sloped gently downwards, curving slightly to the right. The small group advanced, Shepard in the lead, shotgun ready, followed by Shields with her assault rifle, and Liara , pistol gripped tightly in one hand and her right fist wreathed gently in biotic energy. Wrex brought up the rear, towering over all of them, hunching slightly. "Stupid humans can't build their tunnels big enough." Shields voice was almost amused. "Sorry, Wrex. If you'd called ahead, I'd have gotten you a cup of jaaki and we could have caught up on old times. But the tunnel... was dug by those things, not us."

Wrex snorted. "Figures. You have jaaki?"

Shields' laughter was soft as they rounded the corner. The walls were now all dirt, moisture laden and soft, reinforced by close set metallic supports every few feet. The sounds of their footfalls were almost muted, the metallic floor now covered with a thin layer of grime and something slimy and sticky, seeping out from the base of the walls. A corridor branched off to the right, and Shields ignored it. "Leads to where we debriefed ...whoever the Thorian used that week. Dead end."

Shepard nodded, moving along as silently as possible, as the floor turned back into stairs. A geth lay shattered at the top of the stairs, it's head torn to bits, amid the green splashes of slime that indicated Thorian thralls. Six or seven of them were scattered about, two of them burned black, one torn in half, and the rest...spattered about as if struck by a giant fist. "Saren fought his way in, looks like."

Wrex's voice was wry. "With any luck, he'll be too worn out to fight. That would be a shame, seeing as half the reason I'm doing this is to get some good fights going." He shrugged under the heavy armor, the tone of his voice showing he was joking, but he looked ready for the battle to come.

Shepard didn't even bother to snort, her nerves almost jangling. The quiet darkness of the corridor, the silence, the closeness, the utter foulness of the crap on the floor, was all adding up to remind her of the last tunnel fighting on Torfan. With a firming of her jaw, she stepped down the stairs, and then down another flight. She was about to head down the third when Shields put a hand on her arm. "After the next flight...there's a long tunnel, leading to the Thorian. You ready?"

Shepard nodded, and with a deep breath they set out.

* * *

Saren's eyes were still shut, and Benezia focused on finding her center, even as she glanced at Ganar Skal, who was shifting his feet. "How long does this shit take, Benezia?" His guttural voice seemed to almost violate the otherwise silent chamber.

The asari matriarch didn't even respond, her beautiful features muted behind the smoked glass of her ancient battle armor. Built off of old designs for asari commandos, the suit was heavy plates over the shoulders, breasts, and hips, with thin ballistic cloth everywhere else, emphasizing curves. A sort of skirt of stiffened leather reinforced with strips of shock-proof nanotubing guarded her legs, and her hands were wrapped around a vicious Disciple shotgun, it's smooth lines comforting in her hands.

The only others in the room, aside from Saren, the Shiala clone, and Ganar, were two geth – one a communications unit, the other a mere guard. Although she disliked the machines, they seemed utterly unaffected by indoctrination, which had given her researchers an interesting idea. Now, though, the geth stirred. "Benezia-Prophet : forces topside report strike team entering this area."

Benezia nodded. "How long until the reinforcements arrive?" The geth paused, for several seconds, before clicking. "They have just completed FTL jump. ETA is 25 minutes. Be advised – we have no units monitoring the system's mass relay." Benezia smiled coolly. "We'll be done soon, machine , do not worry. Have Cera Rthar prep the ship for departure." She turned, walking over calmly to stand next to Saren, and delicately laid a single hand on his arm. After a long moment he shook his head, and the Shiala-clone stepped back.

Saren swayed, his mandibles levering out and in drunkenly, before shaking his head again, jaws clacking. "There's...too much of it to make sense...like fire on my mind." Benezia nodded. "We will deal with that once we get back to our base." Saren nodded, wincing, and exhaled. Turning to the Thorian, he gave a smile. "Your assistance was .. most welcome. Unfortunately, it looks like we have overstayed our welcome here on this world, so it will be time to go."

The green tinted clone of Shiala narrowed her eyes. "We have sampled your meat. It is superior. But those coming , flesh creatures...wish to kill, to rend. You will stop them."

Saren glanced at Benezia, who shrugged. "Shepard and her band of idiots." Saren gave a confident smirk , and turned back to the creature. "I think you'll find we can handle a few pitiful humans, creature." He tossed his head confidently, and in that moment there was a sharp crack, and Saren was hurled to the ground, shields overloaded and a massive bolt of agony in his shoulder. A second shot impacted the clone of Shiala between the eyes, splattering her skull and sending the naked corpse spinning to the ground in a boneless heap.

A cold voice rang out into the silence of the amphitheater. "Saren Arterius. Time to die."

* * *

Shields cursed, Saren's head toss and ensured that her shot had been off, but she had at least downed the Turian. Shepard called out her challenge even as she was moving forward, tapping her omni-tool as she went, and Shields ducked into cover. The room was huge, with half-broken pillars, dimly lit tunnels opening into darkened pits, and a domed roof that was 40 feet up. But Shepard's breath was taken away by the misshapen _thing _at the center of a vast pit that the ruin was built around, a pillar of polluted , plant-like flesh festooned with dozens of pulsing, throbbing modules, and branching out into tentacle-like roots anchored into the walls. "That's the Thorian?"

Shields nodded, even while she fired again, her sniper shot downing one of the geth units, the high-powered bolt shattering it's head and sending splinters of armor fragments over it's companion. Shepard opened up as well, heavy shotgun blasts dropping the other geth, and it's bulk crashed into Benezia, knocking her askew. The matriarch arose from Saren's side where she had been trying to asses his wound, and her face _twisted _into an inarticulate mask of rage. Benezia snarled, and azure light raced down her arm in a flare, erupting into a bolt of biotic energy that lanced out at Shepard. The bolt literally crackled as it flew through the air, arching down to smash into Shepard, and instead blazing into a fiery blue light as it struck a barrier field erected in it's way. Liara stepped out from the cover of the tunnel, eyes wide and angry. "Mother!"

Benezia's expression was ice, but Shepard had no time for that, stepping into closer cover as she let off a brace of rounds at the asari matriarch. Benezia almost arrogantly blocked them with a barrier of her own, her hand moving languidly and almost insultingly, and her voice disapproving and cold. "Liara, your actions are a disgrace to our Family. I warned you. Consorting with these lesser creatures has shown me you are no longer my daughter or worth my time...or restraint." Lifting her fist she sent out a heavy cascade of pure biotic force, the heavy wave shattering a low stone wall as it rolled forward, but Liara merely gritted her teeth as her barrier held, the energy surging and flickering across it's unyielding surface like an ocean breakwater in rough surf.

The two krogan hadn't even paid attention to the others as they charged, firing shotguns as they went. Wrex took three vicious shots to the torso, the last cracking the plate over his stomach, before his own final blast knocked Ganar literally off of his feet , slamming him to the floor below. Shepard and Shields faced the krogan, lining their guns up to fire...

And biotic fire consumed them both, smashing them against the walls. Shepard shook off the blow, rolling behind a pillar, but Shields had been caught flat-footed, hitting the wall with a heavy thud , sending her weapons flying, and she didn't move after she slowly slumped to the ground.

Saren stood there, blue radiance curling around his outstretched hand , a trickle of blue blood seeping from the still smoking hole in his shoulder plate, and his voice was almost calm. "You are a tenacious one, human. Maybe you'll put up a better fight than Nihlus did." Wrex cursed and with a pulse flung his krogan opponent away from him, tucking his bulk behind a half wall, while Liara flicked her barrier forward, scooting behind a pillar even as her mother took a few steps back. Saren himself moved behind the bulk of one of the low walls, pulling his Sunfire pistol. For a long, tense moment there was no movement or sound.

Shields groaned, and Wrex gave a wry smile. "Three biotics against three biotics, Shepard. I'll take the stupid one if Blue here can handle her mother and you take out Saren." Ganar gave an incredulous snort. "Wrex, your brain is as addled as your armor if you think your idiotic sidekicks can take Saren and Lady Benezia. There's still time for you to reconsider this stupidity."

Saren nodded. "There's time for you all. You've seen what I've seen, haven't you? They are coming. There is nothing to be done about it, except to die fruitless and in futility...or try to survive the coming storm."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "For fucks sake, you aren't _actually _going to give me the goddamned 'join me in my evil empire' speech, are you?"

Saren chuckled. "Actually...no. I was waiting for my omnitool to charge the proximity mines I placed earlier." Before Shepard could even move there was a loud beep and a series of blasts literally right behind her. Shepard came flying out of cover, armor smoking, her shotgun spinning away, and Saren screamed. "NOW!"

The turian Spectre leapt over his own cover, coming down with a biotic leap, firing his pistol directly at Shepard, who managed to use a biotic pulse to flip herself out of the way and back on her feet. One shot singed her shields, but she gritted her teeth and threw herself into a biotic charge, flashing into a streak of blue light, slamming into the other Spectre, sending his shields flaring, and the heavy pistol in his hands barked again, singing her helmet but missing. She lanced out, hands limned in blue energy, slamming his wrist in a scissor lock and wrenching, even as she jabbed her right foot into his knee joint.

Saren's grip on the pistol failed as he fell, but he turned it into half roll, coming back up with a sweep kick that took Shepard's legs out from under her. With a snarl he hurled a warp field at her, but she rolled into a backwards roll and let the energy leach away at the broken concrete floor. She sprang up and straight at Saren with a series of biotic punches, and the battle was joined.

Liara and Benezia were trading biotic blasts and singularities, the younger asari's breath coming shallowly and sweat running into her eyes as she ducked her mother's vicious assaults. Every blast felt like a mountain falling into her barriers, overflowing energy juddering across her slender frame in bolts of blue electricity. She barely evaded a blade-like slash of biotic force, shuddering as it severed a section of pillar behind her cleanly, and answered back with a pulse of force, not at her mother but at the loose-packed dirt she stood upon. Benezia stumbled only for a moment, her lush figure enveloped a moment later by a biotic field to levitate herself, and Liara smiled grimly. "Predictable, mother!"

With an inhale, she hurled a shockwave at Benezia, the storming pulses of blue energy making a sound like a broken storm-front as they knocked the matriarch back, disrupting her barrier and making Benezia's eyes widen. She fell heavily to the floor and then barely managed to roll out of the way of several shots from Liara's pistol, two sparking against her shields and one drilling her thigh , making the older asari hiss in pain. The matriarch fired back with her own shotgun, and Liara gave a screech of pain as the white-hot rounds tore through her thin armor and left smoldering holes in her right arm.

The battle illuminated the entire cavernous room, blue light and flares of white radiance mixed with grunts of suppressed agony and the shriek of flaring, failing shields. Wrex and Ganar were lost to the blood rage, biotically enhanced punches and kicks shattering each other's armor in a blind tide of anger. Wrex felt ribs shatter from a kick, even as he managed to grab his opponents shoulder and , using a biotic field to stabilize his grip, pull Ganar's arm back, and back, and back, until with a ululating scream of agony the other krogan's shoulder socket shattered. With a grunt of exertion, Wrex released him, sending him spinning, and then drove his fist directly into Ganar's hump, sending the younger krogan to his knees.

Shepard parried a straight punch from her opponent, and taking advantage of his momentary opening, backhanded Saren She smiled grimly, her own fists also surrounded in blue flame, as she advanced, grinning at the sight of the turian spitting up blood inside his helmet, before she performed a series of side kicks, pushing the larger Spectre back. He blocked two, his own martial stance firm, but missed her feint to rush him and caught the arc kick she pushed out instead right on the base of the chin, literally flipping him head over heels. "It's fucking over, you pointy faced asshat." She pulled out her Revenant, the barrels snapping into place as she shoved the barrel right in his face. "This is for Nihlus!"

She saw the blue eyes through Saren's helmet widen. A tiny piece of her brain said _Huh, glowing blue eyes, weird _even as she pulled the trigger...and fell back as the blast sprayed deflected bits of mass in all directions, a biotic barrier blocking the shot.

Shepard didn't even have time to turn as a naked green form lithely dropped behind her and , with a biotic kick , sent her flying 20 feet away. Saren grinned viciously and with a roll, grabbed his Sunfire pistol. Shepard staggered back to her feet even as he fired.

Three heavy red comets slammed into her midsection, the third punching through her stomach and out behind her, spraying blood everywhere. Liara's eyes widened as she screamed Shepard's name, a distraction Benezia didn't miss, recovering from her nearly prone position to hurl a vicious blast of biotic energy at Liara. The little asari's scream was cut off as she was lifted from her feet along with a foot of broken concrete and smashed into the far wall with a sickening crack and a spray of blood inside her faceplate.

With a krogan scream of victory, Wrex smashed in Ganar's faceplate, sending the other krogan to the ground in a wash of blood, and instantly reversed his shotgun, firing as fast as he could at Saren. The turian managed to block two of the shots with his own barrier, but the third blasted him right in the face, sending him to the ground screaming , blue blood spurting out. Benezia gave a shout, and slammed both hands together in a gesture, sending two literal walls of biotic rage at Wrex. They overlapped him and detonated furiously, the old krogan crumbling as his arms snapped in multiple places and his legs bent backwards and collapsed, but struggling to rise. With a half-sob of rage, Benezia emptied her own shotgun into him, and the quivering form fell still at last.

Only Benezia was left standing, her armor smoking in places from the strength of Liara's biotic strikes, blood leaking from several rents near her abdomen and the gunshot in her leg. Silence, mixed with the smoke of discharged weapons and the smell of several kinds of blood, dominated the space. Benezia grimaced, and checked her faceplate...cracked. _If I can smell anything, that's bad. _She shipped her shotgun to her armor and turned to the clone of Shiala, gesturing to her comrades "They are badly hurt. I need to get them to my ship. We need your thralls to help us."

The asari clone tilted its head, and then gave something like a smile, the sort of smile one gives a small child or a dog. "Flesh thing, sadly...I am still hungry. You will all make .. good sources of knowledge and power for me."

Benezia's eyes narrowed. "It is a pity you took Shiala's body and none of her wisdom, but then it was her wisdom that led us to ensure that Exogeni figured out your weakness before engaging you in conversation, plant." Without a single word more , her hands swept out to her sides, and two shearing plates of biotic energy lanced out, slashing into the two largest vein like roots on either side of the Thorian, severing them in a spray of gelatinous, greenish fluids.

The asari-clone screamed as the chamber shook, the several of the plants pods rupturing to reveal the ruined, rotted forms of humans or other things, and the matriarch shook her head. "It was ignorant to believe that , in the long run, we'd let you live, but it was idiocy itself to force my hand in killing you. The survival of all is more important than your hunger, thing." With an almost regal expression she held up a trembling hand, and then with all her force sent a gigantic wave of biotic energy outwards.

Several pillars snapped like twigs, and the bulk of the Thorian was hit and simply split open like a rotted log, bizarrely-shaped organ-like structures deep inside it's trunk deforming from the blast. A moment later , Saren groaned, and Benezia rushed to his side. "Saren...we must go. The geth are on their way but you are..."

The turian got to his feet unsteadily. "... I can't see out of my … right eye...spores..." Benezia shook her head. "We'll deal with it on the ship. We have to go." Flinging Saren's uninjured arm around her neck, and drawing on her biotics for strength and support, the weary matriarch helped him to the tunnel entrance. She glanced at the ruined form of Ganar Skal, but even she could she he was dead, his head a shallow pool of blood framed by the shards of his shattered helmet. She used her free hand to tap Saren's omni-tool. "Rthar...we're hurt. We need extraction. Send what geth you can, and the commandos..." Her words trailed off as she winced in pain.

The radio was silent only a moment. "Yes, and the commandos still on board as well, Matriarch. They're coming, hold on."

* * *

Garrus had shut down one nuclear device, which was , as it happened, in the big boxes by the support pillars (which had turned out to be pallets of strontium, the purpose of which was all too clear), but placed behind the colony ships, and was finishing on the second, cleverly concealed under some loose paneling near a malfunctioning water conduit. Compared to the bombs on Eden Prime as they had been described to him by Shepard, these were simple but rugged. Ashley had gotten a call on her omni a few minutes ago and withdrew a bit, and now came running back, rifle out. "Joker says a goddamned geth fleet just entered sensor range, it will be in orbit in minutes. We gotta get Shepard out of there."

Garrus opened his mouth to speak when he heard movement from the far entryway. He pulled his rifle, sighting down it, and then with widening eyes pulled Ashley down beside him out of sight. She stammered out a curse but he held a talon to his helmet in a gesture for silence. Whispering, he spoke "8 asari and a handful of geth, coming from the direction of Saren's ship. Too many to take."

Ash glared at him. "If we let them get behind the Commander, she's finished!"

Garrus sighed, and nodded. "We'll stop them...we just – " he fell silent as voices sounded. "Mistress!?"

The cold voice of Benezia could be heard. "Shepard and her ilk nearly killed us. We must away before more of them arrive, Saren is badly hurt and Ganar is dead." Ashley's grip on her assault rifle tightened, but Garrus tapped her hand instead, still whispering. "The commander may still be alive, Williams. We wait until they move out and then we check. Joker will stop them getting away."

Ashley frowned. Her mind was working furiously. She knew, deep in her heart, that she couldn't take a group of asari commandos and geth, and Benezia, especially if they had already taken down Shepard , Shields, Wrex, and Liara. But she felt the deaths of her unit, her pain, her shame keenly , and she wanted to just charge out so badly.

But as she watched the turian, as his eyes followed them moving off, she realized he was shaking too, his hand flexing around the heavy Talon pistol like he wanted to choke something. Kaiden's words hit her then, his soft, calming voice in the back of her head. _"The way I see it, aliens are just people. Weird looking people sometimes, with scales. But they're still just jerks and saints. They still feel pain, and fear, and love. They still get angry and happy." _She sighed and put her hand on the big turian's wrist. "Vakarian. I hate this, but you're right. I know you hate it too...we'll...get the fucker later." She peeked over the top, the group had drawn out of side, leaving trails of blood behind them. "Sides, looks like the Skipper might have killed Saren anyway. Let's go."

The two moved cautiously to the cargo ship, hearing what sounded like pained, faint moaning from within the ship itself. Turian and asari blood was thick on the stairs leading down, and Benezia's shotgun had dropped at the top, sticky with Saren's blood. Ash kicked it out of the way, but Garrus paused to pick it up and pack it along, and they headed down the stairs.

When they got to the bottom of the ruin , Garrus stepped out first, mouth agape. "Spirit mother of Palaven..." The room was a disaster area, splashed with blood of all kinds and broken masonry, green spatters and bits of mass accelerator rounds on the floor. Liara lay brokenly against one wall, helmet dented and faceplate occluded with blood, her arm bent at an unnatural angle. Wrex was a ruined heap along another wall, while Shepard lay unmoving in a pile of her own blood. Shields was crumpled in the far corner, stirring weakly and while Garrus moved to, Ash moved to Shepard, turning her over. "Oh, Skip...why the fuck..."

Shepard gave an inhalation, followed by a sob of agony and confused muttering. Ashley's voice erupted. "Omigodshit! GARRUS! She's alive!"

Garrus nodded, moving to Liara. "Head out to transmit range. Tell Joker to have the medbay prepped." He lifted Liara away from the wall, and his voice flanged in disbelief. "Spirits, T'soni's still alive too."

"G...urk...urh. Why.." Wrex moaned and spat blood, the sound of a shattering bone re-shattering as it tried to right itself resulting in him awakening. Ashley only nodded, somehow unsurprised the massive mercenary had also survived. "I'll do that and bring the Mako up. Stay here and use medigel on them." The turian nodded absently, infusing Liara's omnitool with a medigel capsule and a stabilization order before moving towards the krogan. "Spirits of fire, Wrex, your arms..."

With an irritated grunt, the krogan flipped himself over, slamming his broken arm against a pillar. A snapping sound and he waved it almost feebly. "Regeneration...sucks sometimes. Where...Saren?'' Garrus jutted his chin upwards. "Got past us, had backup. We came to get you. Shepard is alive...so is Shields and Liara. And you."

Wrex stood, unsteadily, then knelt weakly, his damaged leg unable to support his weight. His armor was blackened from biotic blasts, his own orange blood drenching it in small rivulets that had pooled beneath him in, and formed a gory caul over his shattered helmet. He picked up his shotgun, leaning on it for support, and glanced over his shoulder at the krogan corpse behind him. "Figures. Fucker...beat us. Thought we...had him for a second. Went wrong so fast. Don't even know what happened."

There was ripping, squelching sound from one of the alcoves on the wall, and Garrus turned to see the slime-coated form of an asari in worn-looking commando leathers stumble out. Shorter than Liara, she was literally coated in green gunk, and her eyes were unfocused. She looked lost and confused , and Garrus frowned, lifting his assault rifle. "Who the fuck are you!?"

The asari looked at him a long moment, then held up her hands in a weary, almost .. disgusted gesture. "My name is Shiala. I .. worked … for Benezia, before they … sacrificed me to this thing. Now I don't know...what to do." Her voice was a mix of tired and somehow broken, as if even speaking was a trial to endure.

Garrus's mandible twitched, but she looked almost as done in as the figures on the floor, and he gestured firmly with the rifle. "Alright, lady, kneel on the ground, away from the human in black armor, and don't make any sudden moves or biotic flares or I will kill you."

She merely nodded and complied, slumping where she stood. "I am … not... your enemy. At least...not any longer." She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself, and Garrus frowned. "But...you must know...what he found." She shivered, rocking back and forth slightly, as if in pain "What ... lies waiting in the dark."

Garrus glanced at Wrex. "What's she talking about?" The krogan shrugged. "Dunno. There was a green asari helping Saren, I think that's who got the drop on Shepard, and the blue bitch mentioned her name, I think. It's...not all clear." He shook his massive head, breathing shallowly and weakly, and Garrus turned back to Shiala. She looked up at him for a long moment before giving a weary smile.

"It is... a long story , turian. But the...simple version is that Saren ... gave... me to the Thorian as the price for the Thorian giving him enough knowledge to ...understand the Beacon. I was the … purveyor of this transfer. If you let me live...I can give to you what I was forced to give to Saren."

Garrus didn't even waste time thinking about it, but tapped his omni-tool. "Ash, we have a situation here. Found a .. survivor, I guess. Says she has information about the Beacon. ETA till you get back." The human's voice was strained. "Five minutes, but we have to hurry. Tali and Cole had to fall back from the Exogeni HQ, the Geth stormed in and they're rolling back hard towards the outpost. We gotta move."

Garrus cursed, and then checked Shepard's vitals again and applied medigel. "Wrex, keep an eye on her. We'll let the Council or Shepard or whoever figure out what to do with her."

* * *

Shepard was unresponsive on the back of the Mako as it rolled along the Prothean skyway, as was Liara. The limited medical gear on the Mako was only able to pump their broken bodies with medigel and make attempts at keeping them breathing inside their armor. Shields was semi-conscious, armor scans showed a serious concussion, while Wrex was eating emergency rations in the back , gritting his massive teeth against the pain. He paused to work his other arm into a semblance of it's normal shape. Garrus drove while Ashley updated Joker over her comm and monitored the medical readouts.

Joker had patched in Chakwas , walking her through how to link their armor to the Mako's small computer so she could at least get medical telemetry from their omni-tools, and Ashley had complied as best she could. With a grunt, the last bit of work was completed, and she leaned back on her haunches, tensely. "Got it, doc. Thanks. Joker...is the Normandy ready to go?"

The voice answering back was worried-sounding and hesitant. "Yeah, but … the geth are here, Chief. If they make planet fall, there's nothing I can do in this thick atmosphere, and if I go orbital there's enough of them to kill us all. Orders?"

Ashley looked helplessly at the broken , barely breathing form of Commander Shepard and sighed. "Pressley's the XO...he'll have to make the call." She turned away, jaw set, and her voice was cold as she killed the comms and returned to watching the medical readouts.

"Drive faster, Garrus."


	50. Chapter 43 : Feros, Escape

**A/N**:_ Originally this was going to be a nail-biting chase and piloting fight between Joker and Saren's pilot through an asteroid field, but I changed my mind and decided this would be more inline with what was realistic. _

_Updated 11-2 : It keeps eating my line breaks for some reason.  
_

_Updated 11-4: Stupid mistypes fixed.  
_

* * *

**January 29th , 2183 12:10 P.M.**

"This is Lieutenant Commander Pressley. All units, fall back to the Normandy in good order. Shepard is down, and we have geth ships incoming." The XO's voice was firm but still slightly shaken sounding over the tinny comm-link in Kaiden's ear, and he closed his eyes for a moment before exhaling. The faces visible through the soldier's face plates were tense, and Kaiden worried about how they would take the news. He turned, looking around, and found who he was looking for.

"Jackson, status on the explosives." He turned to the corporal wiring up the incendiaries Shepard had ordered detonated, and the younger man shrugged his shoulders, his armor smeared with dusts and gunk from placing them inside the bunker. "About done, LT." The man carefully was typing in codes to the haptic panel on a small detonator unit, his Avenger rifle laying on the cracked concrete next to him. Another soldier was trailing omni-gel lines from the detonator to the bright red and yellow striped charges set just visible in the doorway of the bunker.

Kaiden nodded, triggering his omni-tool to pull up his local comms. "Cole, you get that transmission?" The voice of the master chief came back strongly. "Sure did, LT. We're pulling back to the garage now. There's three scout cars here, each one seats six, I'll run them to your position pronto."

Kaiden glanced over his men, nodding. "Do that. That will cover most of it, the Mako can pick up stragglers. ETA till you reach the FOA?"

Cole spoke after a few seconds of silence. "Call it at … ten minutes, LT. The , ah, quarian lady is hot-wiring the scout cars, takes a minute. Are we secure or do we need to get ready for a fight?"

Kaidan glanced up nervously at the dust-choked skies of Feros, the filtered sunlight spearing across the clouds above in rays of burnished reds and golds. "I don't see any geth at the moment, chief...and I'd rather not stick around to find out if they're coming down for tea. Keep it tight but put the pedal down."

"Aye, sir. Cole out." Kaiden tapped off his comm and made a swirling 'gather round' motion with his right hand. "Alright, we're pulling out. According to our flight lieutenant monitoring comms and sensors, we have two problems. First, Commander Shepard and Commander Shields are both badly wounded, as well as Dr. T'soni." He frowned as the Exogeni mercs traded dark looks but continued more firmly. "However, they're alive...just in critical condition. We need to get back to the Normandy ASAP to stabilize them. Worse, geth engine signatures were picked up coming out of FTL a few minutes ago. It won't be long until they can get into a position to stop us, not to mention we already have at least one geth destroyer up there."

The captain of the Exogeni mercs, Foster, cursed. "That's just great. So how the hell do we get out of here? We got one battlesuit back at the HQ, but we can't take another heavy geth assault like the one you broke up."

Kaiden nodded. "The Normandy is equipped with special technology that suppress our vented heat in space, so it's a stealth system of sorts. And she's fast. We get past the geth and into either the local asteroids or the gas giant and we can make a getaway to the mass relay. We've got some of the scout cars coming in from the HQ building in a few minutes. We're going to blow the bunker per Shepard's orders, then fall back in good order." He paused. "Exogeni personnel will take two of the cars. Cole's squad is in the third car, the rest of us will hook up with the Mako when it gets here."

There was no murmuring, only checks of the heat levels on guns and loosening of pockets where grenades were kept. Kaiden smiled grimly. "Jackson, get that place blown and let's move out."

* * *

Pressley stood behind Joker on the bridge, his own ops panel pulled up on the multifunction wall display to his right. "Ops, signal strength?"

One of the techs in ops tapped a few controls on her haptic keyboard, peering at the results, her features cast in the light of the readouts as she narrowed her eyes. "Intermittent signal from the destroyer, sir. Low orbit...no LADAR detected. The buoy reports ..." She tapped more keys, and a mild curse flew from her lips as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. "... three heavy geth cruisers, eleven cruisers, at least nine frigates and five destroyers. ETA to orbit is four minutes, sir."

Pressley closed his eyes. "Flight Lieutenant. We're going to have to get the Normandy into cover, we're a sitting duck here at this docking port. Prepare to un-moor and shift to low-emission stealth." Joker swallowed, half turning in his chair. "What about the commander?" Pressley's jaw pulsed in frustration and worry, and his right hand massaged the back of his neck tiredly. "We'll have to hope they can be stabilized on the Mako for now. Hopefully they won't land geth. If they do...I .. don't think we can out fly that many ships, do you, Joker?"

The helmsman was silent, closing his eyes. "Never thought it would end like this, sir."

Pressley opened his mouth to respond when there was a gleeful whoop from ops. "Holy hell! Mass relay just lit up like fucking Christmas, sir! It's the Citadel fleet!" The XO whipped around, half-running back along the narrow ops corridor. "Bring up the main plot! Get me comms!"

The image of the Normandy's CIC display shifted to a stylized systems map, with contact runes popping into existence rapidly. His eyes narrowed as he took in the incoming ships. "...crap. That's not very many ships. Get me a transponder distribution, now."

The ops technician across from Pressley nodded, bringing up ship transponder codes. "Two heavy cruisers, five cruisers, nine...no … ten frigates, fifteen destroyers." His hands flew across a haptic panel, frowning, then looked up, worry in his brown eyes evident. "Sir, with the exception of two frigates, the geth fleet has broken course. Now on a heading of 156...right at the Council fleet, sir."

Pressley nodded, pulling up the comm link status panel. "Council fleet, this is Lieutenant Commander Pressley, SR-1 Normandy's XO. We're pinned down on the surface of Feros. We are undamaged but don't have enough missile munitions for a heavy fight. You have geth incoming, on a bearing of 324, be advised, enemy strength is one three cruisers, nine frigates, five destroyers. Acknowledge, over."

The comms line crackled with geth jamming but the voice was strong enough. "Understood, Normandy. This is Admiral Hierax of the Fourth Citadel Strike Force. We received Commander Shepard's transmission. We are in en route to you now, our orders are to engage any hostiles until the dreadnaught Noxiosun arrives. What is the status of the mission?"

Pressley licked his lips and spoke carefully. "Our last report is that Commander Shepard had engaged Saren and that she was badly injured along with most of her team, but that Saren and Benezia were both wounded and one of their krogan allies was dead. Saren is believed to be critically injured from a headshot and we have not seen his ship break orbit."

After a long moment, Admiral Hierax spoke "Very well. I suppose that's the best that can be expected in this situation. Focus on retrieving your Spectre, we'll handle the rest. Hierax out."

Joker spoke up over the comms system. "Well, that sounded lovely." Pressley grit his teeth and brought up the Mako's comm frequency. "Chief Williams, come in."

Ashley's voice sounded stressed and shaky. "Copy, Normandy. En route to the bunker to pick up Lieutenant Alenko's men. What's the sitrep, sir?"

"Council fleet just got here. Once you reach Alenko, load up and get here at top rated speed. The Council is heavily outnumbered , but they have a dreadnaught on the way. I want to use the combat to make sure we can get out of this mess alive."

"Aye, sir." Pressley killed the comm-link, and then turned back to the display panel, watching the space as the battle was about to begin.

* * *

Benezia used her biotics to carefully maneuver Saren into the bio med creche, grimacing as she felt the burn of overusing her powers erupt into red-hot pain along her spine. She blinked away sudden tears , the voice of Sovereign whispering into her ear, stiffening her will. Saren was completely unconscious now, blue blood flowing slowly from his many wounds. Her own armor was now covered in it, blue streaks mingling with her own. She ignored the pain and walked around the unit to it's controls.

She had gotten him out of the upper part of his armor , and winced at the huge contusions along his torso raised by the human Spectre's vicious biotic attacks. Saren's left wrist was broken, the plates actually cracked and sub-marrow visible, and his face was even more wrecked than before, one of his mandibles blown completely off, his right eye a pulped mess. If not for the armor reinforcement of his face due to the damage from earlier missions and his helmet, his head would have been blown off by the big krogan's shotgun attack. As it was, pieces of facial plating had melted and fragments were imbedded into the turian's skull.

With a sigh, she triggered the automated recovery systems, wincing again at the damage to his body. His armor had literally bent and buckled under the force of Shepard's biotically enhanced punches and kicks, and in more than one place bloody gouges were visible were the armor had been driven into his plates and through into the skin beneath them. Benezia had seen Saren battered before, but not so severely. One things was for certain, however - Shepard had clearly beaten him, had him at her mercy, and only the intervention of the Thorian's thrall had kept Saren from dying in the exact same manner as Nihilus.

_Shepard planned it that way. She not only took on Saren, but in such a way to beat him, enrage him, and then defeat him so she could kill him the same way he had to kill Nihilus. Monstrous. _She sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. _And Liara. Such powerful hatred ... such emotion... she got very , very close to being more than I could handle, my own daughter, barely an adult. Where did she get that kind of ... power from?_

The computer chimed reassuringly, breaking her from her thoughts, green text on a pale dark gray background in turian script coming up. "Secondary liver – damaged. Eye destroyed. Mandible destroyed. Jaw plates II, III, and V ruptured. Jaw plate I destroyed. Six contusions of plating. Secondary fungal invasive infection at rupture sites. Foreign material fragments – "

With a grimace she shut off the audio, watching the machine flood the creche with blue-tinted medigel tuned to dextro chiral biology. Saren had spent millions on an automated biomedical system , for all the times he had barely survived dangerous missions with no doctor or medical help nearby. It would stabilize him , at least until she could get him back to Virmire. She left the machine to it's work, the voice in her head pushing her to new tasks even while she wanted to watch over her lover. The small part of her still her own was helpless as she calmly walked to the bridge. "Rthar, why haven't we lifted off yet?"

The turian pilot was watching the displays of local space in consternation. "The geth just diverted course...there's incoming Council ships, a LOT of them. The geth have them outnumbered, but this is surely just the first jump wave. Dreadnaughts and heavy cruisers are next, the relay will be cut off."

Benezia exhaled calmly, the wound in her thigh throbbing painfully beneath a medigel bandage. "FTL to the nearest systems."

Rthar shrugged helplessly. "We can get to DR939 , Thorsia , and Gimalian 19. None of them have any fueling stations that would not open fire as soon as they scanned us, and we don't have the fuel to reach Carresaa. There's no secondary relays that lead anywhere but back deeper into Council space except the one in this system."

Benezia frowned. "So what exactly are you planning to do?"

Rthar's white-plated face turned to face her. "We can wait until those two fleets start fighting, and lift on the far-side of the planet, sticking below the clouds. Then we make a dash for the asteroid belt. It's full of heavy metals, that will scatter and block any scan attempts. Heat will be a problem but we can stick behind the bigger ones and out of direct line of sight."

He tapped a taloned finger on the mass relay. "If there are no reinforcements, then we're cool. If there are, we FTL to Suhalia. Uninhabited system with two gas giants with heavy electrostatic signatures. If we can get into that system without being seen, you can call for help from the geth to bring us some fuel."

Benezia shook her head. "Saren is badly wounded. He may die, even with the machine taking care of him, and he was already ….stressed from the Beacon and whatever the Thorian did to him. We have to get back to Virmire!"

Rthar shrugged...and gestured to a small black pyramid sitting on a shelf at the back of the bridge. "The only other option is to ask for … help."

Benezia stared at the ugly black pyramid for a long moment before calmly walking up to it and stroking her fingers over it's matte surface. For a moment, there was nothingness, and then it was limned in a glowing red radiance.

"**You touch my mind. Why."**

Benezia swallowed, steeling her mind against the shock of brushing up against something so... incomprehensible and massive. "We are trapped by enemy forces. Saren has obtained what you directed him to , and the Thorian is dead. But we cannot escape this system."

"**Await me. Prepare."**

The pressure of it's voice vanished suddenly, and the matriarch exhaled. "Get ready to move out."

* * *

The battle was joined within minutes of the Citadel fleet moving into the system proper. The geth, seeing the enemy outnumbered, moved forward, long range mass accelerator strikes and torpedoes ranging out. Most missed at the long ranges, as ships moved in computer-randomized patterns of thrusters to throw off such shots. Either by bad luck or poor timing, a salarian destroyer shifted itself downward in the line of battle and was struck directly by a shot from the lead geth heavy cruiser, the blast snapping the delicate hawk-shaped salarian vessel nearly in half with it's force. A few moments later the ship exploded violently as the mass effect core raced out of balance, fragments of hull pinging off kinetic barriers of the neighboring ships.

Admiral Hierax sat in the eyrie-seat at the head of the CIC on a high platform, overlooking his subordinates. The CIC was a bowl of interlaced slats, divided by work stations and operations consoles, done in gleaming silver with dark blue haptic screens and dim, pale blue overhead lights. His chair , draped in dark fabric representing his colony background, leaned back as he assayed the tactical map. His face was dark , plates almost black and barely highlighted with silvery clan markings, his fringe covered with an admiral's shawl, his legs crossed arrogantly and confidently. "Time to second wave clearing the relay, Lieutenant?" His deep, flanged voice was almost grating, with the clicking growl of age creeping into it.

His aide, a young turian in light armor , with red markings, tapped silvery haptic panels. "Ten minutes, Admiral, sir. No sign of the Talon's Justice, if that is what Saren is flying."

"Hrmph. Very well. Enough of this farce. All ships: full barrage. Concentrate on the smaller ships, the dreadnaughts can crack those cruisers." He gave a turian smile full of needled fangs as hundreds of missiles lanced out in a wide arc, screaming toward the enemy. "Flag section one, oblique right , set course 178 mark 2, ten degrees depression, for full torpedo spread. Flag section two, direct left to reface, maintain fire. Flag cruisers, follow me in. Helm! All ahead flank!"

The Council fleet opened like a flower, splitting into parts. Destroyers moved left and right, turning and firing as they went, alternating heavy accelerator fire and torpedoes from one side and swarms of missiles from the other, while the cruisers accelerated to maximum speed and opened up with everything. The space between the two fleets was alive with a moving tapestry of glowing death, as ships attempted to weave and dodge and counterfire, illuminated only by the distant star and the explosions of other vessels. The geth lost three ships immediately , and then withdrew slightly, several ships taking additional hits from the unexpected tactic, a geth cruiser attempting to turn and fire hit with three torpedoes at once and literally evaporating under the massive explosions.

The geth ship formation became noticeably ragged, and Hierax nodded grimly. "So the old stories were right, you kill some and they get dumber. Hah. How the quarians lost to their own dish washing machines still baffles me. Continue firing." He leaned back, content, as several more minutes of fire passed. Despite having better weapons and somewhat better ranges, the geth ships were not built to take heavy damage, unlike the heavier built turian ships. And the salarian ECM and hyper-frequency GARDIAN laser systems were making a mockery of the geth attempts at missile attacks. Hierax lost another destroyer and two of his frigates, but dropped two cruisers , six geth destroyers, and had achieved hits on most of their frigates, in only a few minutes.

His lieutenant spoke up. "Mass relay activating...the Noxiosun and her escort are here, sir." The admiral stood, looking out over his battle plot, his sharp talons ticking little marks into the metallic railing surrounding it as he did so. The Noxisun was a turian dreadnaught, and it's escort was 16 heavy cruisers and 5 super-heavy missile destroyers. The drell were doing combined arms work with the Citadel this month, part of the Council obligations, and a drell heavy cruiser, all narrow lines and smooth pale green armor, was also escorting the dreadnaught. "Excellent news, lieutenant."

Hierax grinned as the dreadnaught immediately fired after stabilizing it's position, the Fellstorm main guns launching a ball of sixteen 44 pound slugs at a huge fraction of light speed. The blast stormed across the battle space to strike the lead geth cruiser amidships, tearing it apart and continuing on to shred the three small frigates next to it.

"So much for rumors of superior shielding, I see. This seems to be in hand, someone contact that human – Presser, Presthing, whatever his name is – and let him know he can stop hiding down on the planet now."

His aide dutifully suppressed a chuckle at his admirals distaste for humans and was about to open the comm channel when he noticed the mass relay giving off a bizarre energy reading. "...Sir? The .. the relay is configuring for incoming mass but..I've never seen this out-line before."

Hierax half turned, mandibles flickering in irritation. "Query the damn thing for the mass translation." The lieutenant turned to face him, eyes confused. "I did, sir, it said the mass was three times that of the Destiny Ascension."

Hierax barely had time to think before the answer hit him, snatching the comm panel at his side up with a hasty motion of his hand. "ALL SHIPS EVASIVE MANUVERS! PULL BACK FROM THE RELAY!" Even as he spoke, the mass relay erupted into blue light, spreading like a small explosion , and a black, gigantic ship emerged into space, glowing with it's own light as a ball of red energy began to build at the base of it's leaf-shaped form.

The lieutenant's eyes widened. "Oh, no."

* * *

Chakwas was rushing around the three medical beds , prepping them for use, as Alenko and Wrex brought in the wounded. Alenko was using his biotics to levitate Shepard, while Wrex was able to do the same for both Shields and Liara, even as he continued to bleed. Chakwas frowned. "Wrex.."

The krogan grunted. "I'll be fine." His voice softened. "I shot the bastard. But they all took hard hits." Alenko handed Chakwas the readout chip from the Mako's medical computer. "I .. I did what I could, Doctor..."

Chakwas took it as she waved forward her one orderly. "Lieutenant, see if you can find anyone on board with medical training, maybe some of the Exogeni people. Hurry. Lynn, put up the stasis fields and .. let's start with Shepard. Get her armor off."

Alenko and Wrex left the medbay, Kaiden almost running into Williams, who stood outside, still in her armor. "Is..." Wrex merely pushed past her, heading for the elevator, his shoulders slumped and his shotgun booming on the floor as he used it as a cane, ignoring his other gaping wounds.

The human lieutenant shook his head. "We don't know. I need to find people who may know medicine. What's our status, chief?" His eyes were dark with worry, but Ash straightened at the sound of her rank and exhaled. _Focus on the task at hand / in abeyance of the heart's desire. _"All the Exogeni people are on board. In the main cargo areas, and the mess deck. The … asari woman is in Engineering with two marines guarding her. Everyone went through full decon procedures and we've got a sampling unit checking for any of the Thorian's spores."

Alenko nodded. "Good job, Williams. Get down to the mess decks and keep things calm, and see if anyone knows medicine down there. Someone has to." Alenko turned and walked over to Pressley, who was watching the main combat map in horror. "...sir?"

Pressley wiped his hand over his eyes. "The .. .black ship from Eden Prime just jumped into the system. It smashed the Noxiosun into a burning wreck with a single shot." Pressley bit his lip, and cursed. "Joker, power up everything. We're going to make a run for the system edge and FTL to one of the nearby systems."

The main ops analyst suddenly spoke up. "Sir, we have a signature , turian frigate or light cruiser, accelerating towards the mass relay. " She tapped her controls and brought it up on the main screen. Pressley frowned, and tapped his comm. "Detective Vakarian, please come to the CIC immediately."

Alenko frowned. "You think that's Saren's ship?"

Pressley gave a shrug of his big shoulders, and wiped his balding forehead with the arm of his uniform. "I don't know, Lieutenant. It's turian. I, for one, am no expert in turian ships. I figure the detective would know Saren's ship the way I bet a lot of humans now know the Normandy." His voice trailed off as Garrus entered the CIC, slightly huffing from having clearly run up the stairs to the space. "Reporting."

Pressley indicated the CIC view with his chin, and Garrus glanced at it, and immediately scowled. "That's the Talon's Justice. Saren's ship, custom built by the best shipwrights in the galaxy. Dual eezo core, self-repairing armor, adaptive heat reduction, salarian sensor suite, the works." His blue eyes shifted to bore into Pressley's. "...the Commander gave...clear orders to pursue it at all costs."

Pressley nodded. "We _can't_ give chase, Detective. The super-dreadnaught from Eden Prime is here, and the Citadel fleet is pinned between it and the geth. We have to make a run for it, FTL out of the system, take a secondary relay back to the Citadel. I know Shepard gave orders to you and Joker otherwise, but..."

Garrus nodded, sighing. "I hate the logic , but you're right, sir. Chasing Saren now will just get us all vaporized." He glanced back at Pressley. "What did you need me to do, sir?"

Pressley bit his lip. "You said you are good with missiles. We still have some flares and ECM pods in the battery. I need you to rig up some noisemakers to throw anyone following off of our profile. Can you do that?"

Garrus nodded firmly, and Pressley gave him a thin smile. "Get to it then, Detective." The turian turned away, and Alenko gave the XO a strange look. "I can see asking him up here to ID the ship...but decoys?"

Pressley turned back to the plot. "Better safe than sorry, Lieutenant. This has turned from "find out about what is going on" to the worst defeat in the Citadel Fleet's history in a long time. If that thing starts pursuing us, it's all over." He shook his head. "Jo—Flight Lieutenant. Engage full stealth, take us out slow, behind the planet, and set course for..."

He paused, and brought up the local starmap. He didn't have a lot of choices and he had severely wounded people on board, so he punched up "medical facility : human , asari" and "repair facility :light". The system highlighted , DR 939, had a trauma center for the human and asari inhabitants. Small colony world of a few million people, mostly ship construction and drone building. "Set course for DR 939. There's some medical facilities there that may help us."

The Normandy lifted from the sky dock, rapidly lancing through the thin atmosphere at that height and making a beeline for the system's terminator. As they moved , Garrus fired off a series of small drones that mimicked the EM and heat signature of an Alliance Frigate moving into the nearby asteroid belt.

Pressley watched the nav-ops plot, wincing as the Citadel Fleet was sheared in half by the repeated, savage weapon of the huge black dreadnaught. The core of the fleet, about half of the ships that had jumped in during the first wave, broke and headed for the systems edge, and the geth didn't pursue. The huge dreadnaught didn't either, instead altering speed and suddenly heading for Feros. Pressley clenched his fist as Saren's vessel docked with the giant ship, and then frowned as the vessel continued to close on the planet.

It's speed was terrifying, as it easily moved over twice as fast as even the Normandy had done during Joker's insanely inspired charge at Feros earlier. It slowed, as if interia was but an irritant, and then began to orbit, slowly. After several long moments, the black giant opened fire on the planet, blazing red bolts of power burning downwards through the atmosphere in long, heavy lines of devastation. Two giant blasts of yellowish plasma , crackling with contained electrical charge, belched out of it's base, and a moment later the ops sensor officer spoke. "Sir...good god. It just dumped... thousands of tons of pure plasma on the planet. The docking area we were at...the colony...the Exogeni tower...all of it...everything within 20 miles of that is just vapor now."

Joker's voice was droll over the ship's intercom. "I don't think they like us very much, XO."

"Noted." Pressley turned away from the plot. "Notify me if it starts following , ops lead. Otherwise, stand down from full battle stations to alert two and minimize ship emissions." Pressley strode to the comm room, shutting the door behind him, and pulled up the comm menus. "Council fleet, this is Normandy, do you still read?"

The voice of the same turian admiral came on, grim and cold "Yes, Normandy. We're withdrawing to FTL, I've lost almost all my ships and the entire second wave was destroyed. I presume you're doing the same?"

"Yes, Admiral. Our sensors show the geth are not pursuing you. Saren...escaped. And the dreadnaught just glassed the colony site. Anyone still alive down there..."

The line was silent for several moments. "Spirits damn them. I'm FTL routing to Thorsia. There's a light interdiction unit there for going up against the Blood Pack raiders. There's a full comm relay there, I'll make my report to the Council then."

Pressley nodded. "We're routing to DR 939...they have medical facilities for humans and asari. Shepard's alive but … touch and go. We'll rendezvous with your fleet once we get her stabilized..."

The turian admiral's voice was weary. "Acknowledged, Normandy. .. and I wish I had paid more attention to the Eden Prime footage. Hierex out."


	51. Chapter 44 : Senator Adkins

**A/N**: _So a few things to cover. _

_**First**, and most importantly, I'd like to thank everyone for reviewing. And favs , follows. And even reading. If you find it's not your cup of tea, I'd appreciate feedback as to why. I write because it helps me distract myself from problems in my own life (insert emo whining here) and because I love the idea that people can enjoy it. For me, the best parts of ME were the "oh holy shiat" bits where Shepard just went crazy awesome , and the story is built around that. _

_**Second**, I'm coming to a branch point in how I write the story. Obviously ,as I set out in the beginning, the story is a complete Alternative Universe re-write of ME1 (with the others being rewrites of ME2 and ME3). But there's going to be a gap in between the current mission and the next mission (Noveria) so most of the telling will be the 'times in between minor assignments' types, with some exploration of how the universe is different. I'm never sure how the reader feels about A/U and I'm wondering, along with more of al-Jilani's ranting should I include "Codex" segments about the changes. I can do them as chapters, or I could stick them on the forum ( myforums/LogicalPremise/3873840/) Let me know what you think is best._

_**Third**, a couple of people have mentioned wanting to know what Shepard looks like, or suggesting I do sketches of armor and faces. I am , sadly, a horrid artist. But I can always take a stab at sketches of some kind, if anyone is willing to take such drek and turn it into real art. _

_**Finally, **__if you do nothing else, please drop some reads on _**Introduction to Asari for Humans** _, which is the guide I use for talking about asari. If you need a laugh, read _**Mass Effect 3: A Crucible in More Ways Than One**. _And as always, please check out **Owelpost**'s and **Meladark**'s masterpieces. _

_I wasn't sure about this chapters, since it's just a lot of political maneuvering and back-ground stuff. I'm a big fan of Chekov's Gun, the concept of setting things up in one chapter to use them many chapters down the line. The action will pick up soon again, I promise. _

* * *

**January 29th , 2183 12:10 P.M.**

"I need 40 cc's of amrinone , now!"

Doctor Chakwas bit her lip behind her surgical mask as she struggled to keep Shepard alive on the biomedical table. The sickbay was spattered with blood , bits of armor and hastily erected UV lights. Two of the ops techs who were off watch were hurriedly re-sterilizing the room with hand-held UV lamps and portable HEPA-filter vacuums in full body armor with helmets, while Chakwas and her assistant Lynn worked on the wounded. Both of the doctors wore 'hot-suits', half armor half mass field hazard area suits designed to protect against infection, and hands were covered in thick non-latex gloves tipped with special circuits to allow haptic keyboards to function.

Shepard's face was pale and drawn in pain. Her Spectre armor had flooded her body with stimulants, steroids and clotting agents as soon as the micro-frame computer on board registered the vicious shots from Saren's lethal pistol, but it didn't really matter. Shepard had already been wounded – not fully healed from either her efforts on Eden Prime or the vicious blast on Therum, she had thrown herself into the fight regardless of pain. Bruises mottled here bare torso, along with a patina older scars. A vicious biotic throw from Benezia and several biotically enhanced blows by Saren had broken bones, and then the pistol shot struck her torso.

The blast was so powerful that it had vaporized her Spectre armor, sending a spray of molten materials into her torso, along with the super-heated plasma blast. The shot had punched completely through her and out the back of the armor, wreaking havoc. The only reason Shepard hadn't bled to death instantly was the drugs dispensed by her armor and the partial cauterization of the shot itself. Complicating the issue were the extremely virulent spores of the Thorian, which latched onto organic tissue of any kind and began leeching sugars and carbons to replicate itself. Massive dumps of sterilization agents and heavy UV lighting were the only things that stopped their growth so far. Chakwas had already been forced to cut away a segment of small intestine infested with the growth.

Packing the wound with medigel would do nothing, the shot had chipped her spinal column, ruptured her stomach, and the shock heat and pressure had broken 3 ribs. Worse, she had interior second degree burns and her liver was damaged. Chakwas had to bring down the commander's heart rate , but in doing so her heart suddenly stopped.

Lynn's dark face, framed by severely tied back black hair, was a mask of concentration. "...administered, doctor. Heart rate stabilizing. She's still shocky, I can't pick up decent secondaries on the ultrasound monitor."

Chakwas nodded, even as the ship shook with the boom-thud of mass corridor translation. "It will have to do." She carefully used a protolaser to separate mangled tissue from the stomach, and winced as she applied a patch of nonspecialized cell cultures in growth serum to the base of Shepard's stomach. Sealing the patch with a thin layer of disinfective medi-gel, she turned to the small intestine. "The hole in her stomach will be patched in a while. This... " She seared away a few more inches of intestine and then gestured. "Field-sterile clamps, please. We'll need to hold this segment of intestine together. There's nothing I can do about the spinal damage...but I've got the ribs re-patched with the regenerator and I've stopped the rest of the damned internal bleeding..."

Lynn carefully used a manipulator to control the miniaturized robotic arms, carefully clamping the two ends of intestine together, as Chakwas wrapped them in a thin, glowing green cord, pulling it through and around several loops. She lathed a broad-based antibiotic paste over the cords, then carefully laid strips of hyper-growth bandages over them. "Synthetic protein bandages...won't hold forever but better than nothing."

The two servicemen disinfecting began another sweep, and Chakwas sighed. "How about Dr. T'soni and the Shields woman?" The doctor's voice was tired, even as she picked up a plasma infusion feed and began administering blood plasma. Lynn glanced over at the multifunction display. "Ms. Shields is concussed. There is very light cranial bleeding and a stage-1 cranial bone deformity. Probably fractured skull. Some light damage to the ribs and right arm. Dr. T'soni is severely battered, some small amount of internal bleeding that I can't pin down. Again, heavy concussion. Possible brain trauma, I don't ...I mean, I'm not familiar enough with asari biology to be sure."

Chakwas patted her hand reassuringly and turned to face the computer at one side of the biomedical bed. "Well, I took some quick refresher classed on turians and asari about a year ago, but that was basically first aid, thus my knowledge of asari medicine is not much better than yours." She paused. "Still, let's get them both on thinners to avoid clotting."

Joker's voice broke in from the comms panel. "We've reached DR939, Doc. There's an Eldfell-Ashland medical trauma team on hot standby for Commander Shepard and Commander Shields. There's also an asari specialist. They're requesting you link medical records and treatments."

Chakwas finished the seal on Shepard's intestines and tapped a haptic key on the nearby panel. "It's going, Jeff. What's our ETA?"

"22 minutes. Their trauma surgery center is actually on board a ship, so it's moving out at full speed to meet us halfway. How...how are they..."

Chakwas gave a weary smile. "I think I've controlled the massive internal bleeding of Shepard. Dr. T'soni is … still in bad shape. Commander Shields has a severe head wound and possibly shattered her skull. It's .. not good, Jeff." She was going to continue when Pressly's voice sounded. "Understood, doctor. Keep them going until that ship docks."

A moment later his voice sounded. "All hands in Ops, move in shifts to the cargobay to fit full body armor. We'll be doing a full vacuum decontamination of the Medbay, just like we already did with the cargo bay and elevator. After that, section II offwatch personnel will change out all HEPA and DETA filters and go over every inch of the interior with UV lamps. Department heads aside from Medical, Council representatives, please meet me in the Comms Room in five minutes."

Lynn glanced up. "Doctor...what happens now? You don't recover from these kinds of injuries in a day or two." Chakwas snorted. "You clearly haven't imagined how pissed off the Commander is going to be when she realizes Saren got away. She'll be up before we know it. I'm more worried about Dr. T'soni, frankly..."

* * *

The comm rooms gray, depressing color scheme seemed fitting, the muted lighting soothing , given the events of the day. Engineer Adams felt bone tired, having gone through the harrowing charge to Feros only to remain on high alert during the Commander's fights on the planet, and then the high-speed, high stealth escape as that black monstrous dreadnaught murdered the Council fleet like a child kicking a kitten.

He ran his hand over his shaven head and stared at his marine-issue boots, noting absently the leather was notched on the right toe. He thumbed a dab of omni-gel from the 'quick-fix' nodule he always had on his belt, smoothing the leather out, and sighed.

Pressly entered the room, his broad chest lifted and his chin held high. As always his uniform was perfect, and Adams always felt a bit .. dimmed next to the picture-perfect XO. The man had never treated him with anything but respect, but still... Pressly was going places in the Alliance navy, that was for sure. XO to Commander Shepard? Pfft. He'd made Commander in six months and Captain not long after that, if Adams had his guesses right.

_And me? I'll be lucky to see O4 before I'm 50. Damn Senator Chatson. _The whole sourness of the event had eventually shattered his marriage, and his career in shambles. It was only because of his skills on mass-field transfer and heat mechanics that he was tapped for this mission , and he was sure that as a shakedown crew, he'd have been sidelined before long.

Pressly finished whatever he was reviewing on his datapad as Lieutenant Alenko and Chief Williams came in, followed closely by Master Chief Cole and Lieutenant Friggs, the ad-hoc navigator Pressly was training. They all sat. Tali, Wrex, and Garrus had come in earlier, all three aliens quiet and lost in their own thoughts.

Pressly glanced around then spoke. "I have an update from Doctor Chakwas. Shepard is … semi-stable, and we'll be docking with medical ships in a few minutes. It's unknown how long we'll be here until the Commander and the other wounded recover, but that's what we're doing. We have a...message from the Citadel, inquiring about our status. Apparently, the Council wants us to divert there and give a report. But this is a Systems Alliance vessel, and without Shepard being capable of command, I intend to follow the orders given to me by Systems Alliance officers."

Wrex only gave a snort. "Is this where you tell us to get the hell off your ship, then, human?" His voice sounded too tired to be aggressive, as if he was only being difficult for the sake of doing so. Pressly gave him a long look. "No, it it isn't, Mr. Urdnot. My orders …" Pressly actually _fidgeted. _Adams had never seen such a thing. "...my orders from the Systems Alliance appear to be having some difficulty being received. Possible some systems damage from the transit into Feros. It almost sounds like the SA is ordering us back to Arcturus , but it's too jumbled to make out."

There was absolute silence in the comm room for a moment, then Tali muttered. "Those _bosh'tets. _Why would they issue something like that?" It was Garrus who answered her. "They're probably concerned about how this looks. It's bad enough Saren got away...if news gets out that Shepard is near death..."

Pressly gave an angry shake of his head. "Enough. That isn't happening. For now, we are going to hold position here and make repairs. I'm not moving this ship an inch until either an SA admiral boards it and orders me to, or Shepard recovers." Pressly exhaled. "It may be that they thought the Commander could get better medical care at Arcturus, seeing as the best doctors are there. But that would mean Dr. T'soni would go untreated...so I made the call based on what I knew at the time. "

The big man stood. "Until then, I'm in command. And as such, we're going to prepare for war. All sections will commence repairs. Adams, I want any damage to the engines from the Feros run fixed in six hours. Friggs, get me all the nav-chart data on EVERY system within a six jump range from Feros, I want to know where that bastard Saren could have gone."

His eyes snapped to Alenko. "Lieutenant, I want complete inspections done by 0600 tomorrow, including an update on the men wounded on Therum. Master Chief Cole, we recovered an additional Mako from the surface of Virmire. It's unarmed, and I want you and Mr. Vakarian to get on installing two coax mass accelerators into it. We'll pick up a main gun later."

Pressly turned to the aliens, frowning, and Adams suppressed a chuckle. _This should be good._

Pressly's voice was tight but firm. "Mr. Vakarian... I believe Shepard also put you in charge of the main guns, so get them re-calibrated and put in orders for more missiles and torpedoes. Chief Williams, Shepard ordered up a large supply of battle armor and weapons, but didn't do that for the ground team. Go ahead and get replacements for , at least, Dr. T'soni and Wrex."

Wrex glanced down at the clothes he had on, his armor being so contamination laced it had to be hurled out the airlock. "Get something in red. I look good in red."

Pressly turned to Friggs. "Once we're docked, and everything is shut down, run full checks on the navops control surfaces systems and make sure we're ready to go at a moment's notice. I don't want any further surprises from the ship if Joker decides to go all ludicrous speed on me again." Friggs nodded, and Pressly glanced around. "Tali, please assist Engineer Adams as he sees fit."

Pressly finally stood. "I .. I am sure that we'll get this mission back on it's feet. Right now, we just need to wait and make sure that when Shepard recovers...she's got a place to get back to the fight from. Dismissed."

The crew filed out, with the exception of Wrex, who looked pensive. Pressly frowned. "Is there something you needed?" The big krogan said nothing for a moment, then nodded. "I'm going to get an update from the Shadow Broker and give him a report on progress. I also want to ask him about this … order .. you got from your bosses." Pressly rubbed his chin. "Can't hurt...I suppose. But I need to know what you're telling this .. crime boss of yours."

Wrex turned. "Shepard trusted me to be … discreet."

Pressly squared his shoulders and stared the krogan in the eye. "I'm not Shepard. Just because you're not in league with our enemies doesn't mean I trust you, or any other alien on this ship. When things go bad, everyone's out for themselves. So, yeah, that means I need to see what you're going to tell this Broker." Wrex leaned forward, his mass and bulk looming over Pressly. "And if I say no?"

The XO met his gaze calmly. Wrex could literally smell the fear on the man, and noticed the ever so-slight trembling of his hands, but his voice was like iron. "Then, Mr. Urdnot, I can tell you to get the hell off my ship. Via the airlock."

Wrex convulsed in laughter, taking two steps back. "By Kalros you have a quad on you, human. Shepard must be putting something in your food." Still chuckling , the krogan turned to the box on the wall, placing his hand on the circular panel in it's middle. After a second, his hand was outlined in blue light, and the box chimed softly. "Voiceprint."

Wrex spoke softly. "The Hollows is where my faith died." The box beeped, then chimed again. Accessing. Connection authenticated. Encryption established." A long pause followed, and then the main screen lit up with the Broker's symbol – a stylized triangle, in red, like some kind of bizarre mouth, followed by a low, grating voice. "Tetrimus. What is it, Wrex?"

Wrex strode to the front of the comm room, as the symbol vanished and a grainy image of the broken turian filled the screen, his hood thrown back, revealing his ravaged features. "My report. Short version. We tracked Saren to Feros. He was after some kind of sentient plant that had information on the Protheans. We think he got what he was looking for, but we nearly took him out. He got away. There's an asari we took captive who says she can give Shepard the same information, but Shepard is badly wounded, along with the Prothean expert. Citadel fleet got cut like cheap varren meat by the big black ship. They're falling back, we're headed to get medical help for Shepard."

Tetrimus exhaled, his eye glowing softly in the darkness. "We have heard bits from our operatives, but nothing concrete. The Broker Network is scouting the areas around Feros, but they reported nothing yet...what else do you have to report?"

Wrex sighed. "We may have another problem. The humans sent a recall order for this ship, even though Shepard is down and hurt bad. The human commanding this ship fears the human government will try to break off this little jaunt due to bad press and political bullshit."

Tetrimus nodded. "Yes, sadly. There's already been some … pressure about that, even before this. The Systems Alliance put forth Shepard as a candidate, but there are elements within the SA that are pushing for her dismissal. We feel these are more than likely Cerberus backed. The Broker anticipated this might be a reaction from Cerberus, using politics to smear the air. Already the news feeds are full of humans stating they won't defend independent colonies. They're using the Saren fiasco to pressure independent colonies into having no real course of protection except to work with Cerberus."

Wrex groaned. "How many times have I told you, I only want jobs that involve me, my shotgun, and a dead body?" Wrex balled his fist. "Shepard had Saren cold, and he got away. I drilled him but I'm not 100% sure he's dead. Whatever Saren is doing, he was involved with Ganar Skal, and that means he's using my people for something bad. This is personal now, Tetrimus. Keep the humans going on this, at least until she recovers."

Tetrimus' mandible flickered, slowly. "That shouldn't be a problem. The Broker doesn't want any... changes in how things are proceeding. For the moment, at least." He paused, pulling something up off screen. "I'll get to work on making sure the SA stays .. pliable. In the meantime, I'm forwarding intelligence we currently have now, the Broker just pushed me an update. Our spy drones tracked the black dreadnaught, but it made a mass-effect jump out of the middle of the system to .. somewhere."

Pressly's jaw dropped. "A jump WITHOUT a mass relay? That's impossible!" Tetrimus peered at the human for a long moment."I assure you it occurred."

When Pressly said nothing, he continued. "It implies a level of technology that is so far beyond ours as to make us cavemen. The weapon that assaulted the fleet is the same one used on Eden Prime, ferro-metals accelerated to a huge fraction of light speed, bound in a mass-free corridor to form a beam. It's like a thousand hits from a dreadnaught's main gun every second. There can be no defense against that kind of firepower, kinetic shields get flooded with molten metal and start conducting, inducing either collapse or a massive electromagnetic explosion from charge differential." He tapped some keys, and data began flooding the smaller screen on the box on the wall, before beeping and discharging an OSD, which Wrex took.

The turian's voice grew grimmer. "Worse, we've lost track of Saren. The geth that fell back to a system about 5 jumps outside the Perseus Veil. We're dispatching scouts for a look-see. We also have boots on the ground at Exogeni HQ...Cerberus has been picking off surviving executives."

Wrex tossed his head. "We have one of those. Ethan Jeong." Tetrimus narrowed his eye and nodded. "I think the Broker would be more than happy to.. have a conversation with this Jeong. Whatever Saren was looking for, knowing the threat is critical...and , as I said, with Cerberus on the prowl, he'd be safer with us."

Pressly frowned. "He'd be safer with a highly covert criminal organization than on board a Systems Alliance military vessel?" Tetrimus gave a cool look in the human's direction, the screen flickering slightly. "Considering that Cerberus assassins got to the eyewitness on Eden Prime behind far heavier security, I'd say the odds are good. I can't force anything, of course...but the Broker would be appreciative."

Pressly said nothing for several long seconds, then gave a sigh. "I'm not the one to make that kind of call, but Shepard...isn't here. He's not under arrest, so what he wants to do is up to him. We're docking at a medical ship in the DR939 system in a few minutes. He'll be onboard until we dock somewhere else."

Tetrimus glanced away, then nodded. "You'll receive a call from the Systems Alliance shortly, Lieutenant Commander Pressly clarifying any … confusion about your current orders, then.. And I'll be on my way to DR939 as soon as possible. Tetrimus out. " The link went dead, and Wrex sighed and turned away from the screen, limping still from his wounds. "Satisfied, human?"

Pressly nodded. "For now." He frowned, then squared his shoulders. "Thank you." The big krogan just shouldered past him, grunting. "If you wanted to thank me, you'd order up some jaaki. The rations on this ship are horrible."

* * *

"Senator Adkins?"

Smoke circled lazily above, swirled about by the wood-bladed ceiling fan in the ceiling, and the stone-set fireplace crackled merrily with it's own blaze in the far wall. The room was large, even for a Senator's office, set with thick pile rugs of pale crème, the walls covered in handsome bookshelves, pictures of the Senator with various celebrities or at events, the wide windows overlooking the gleaming skyline of Vancouver's bay. The senator's wooden desk was clear except for his ashtray, comm pad, and the documents he was considering, his thick cigar clamped between his teeth as he measured how to respond to his guests.

Having his secretary's voice break his concentration was bad, but it also gave him more time to stall.

"Senator Adkins, incoming call, line three." The voice was perky and young , like all his secretaries, but it sounded strained for some reason. _Probably PMS or some such shit. _The senator chuckled indulgently. "Cherry, I'm meeting with the repre-"

Her voice was even more strained. "Y-yes sir... but.. the caller says it's about FLASHBACK. And that you'd... better answer."

The blood drained from the Senator's face, and he glanced at the two other men in the room. Commander Branson's model-perfect face showed nothing but impatience, his perfect blond hair in waves, his iron jaw and cobalt eyes fixed firmly on the Senator. His uniform was perfect, thin rows of decorations in a neat block on his chest, his hands folded calmly across his stomach. Next to him, Charles Saracino seemed almost tiny, despite his expensive, nova-silk clothing. He didn't recognize the reference either, and Adkins gave a tiny internal sigh of relief. "Alright Cherry, tell him I need a minute or two, and to hold."

Tabbing off, he turned to the two men. "Gentlemen, I understand your position. And unlike some, I'm … flexible about how we further humanity's position among the stars. I know some people have knee jerk reactions, but we both know the truth of the situation." He paused, puffing on his cigar, mind still racing about who could be calling about FLASHBACK. _Dr. Amang wouldn't call unless the project was totaled...it must be Agent Ghrath, the moron. Stupid AIS agents think they can run evrything._

He smiled, exhaling, and spoke again."And to your points, Shepard has certainly gotten the job done, but she's hardly going to be an asset for furthering humanity's position. Aliens seeing her will see someone who is terrifying, but bloodthirsty, uncultured, blunt, and awkward. Unfortunately, I'm still of the opinion that the most important thing **is** getting the job done, not political maneuvering around the Council. And I'm a politician myself, for God's sake."

Saracino eyes narrowed. "That kind of reluctance could cost you in the long run, Senator. We aren't blind to what is happening in the parliament, and the days where you could be guaranteed a viable bloc of votes for your programs are long over. We could deliver that again...or cause difficulties."

Adkins leaned forward, his large shoulders squaring back as he did so. "And I get what you're saying, but if you think you can pressure me into making a snap judgment, you are sadly mistaken. I'll get in touch with my own contacts and we'll talk about this at a later date. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a call related to our intelligence assets that I need to take privately." His fixed his famous glare on the other politico, and waited.

It was Saracino who broke eye contact first. "Of course, Senator. We'll be at the Cord-Hislop building meeting with CEO Harper if you need anything for the rest of the day." Branson merely nodded, his muscular form standing with elegance as the two men turned and filed out the door. Adkins exhaled and tapped his comm panel. "Ghrath, I told you never to -"

"I am afraid Agent Ghrath is … indisposed." The voice that interrupted him was cold, rumbling, almost... malignant in it's power and tone. It was a voice that spoke of complete, unyielding control and dismissive contempt all in one set of syllables. "Nor will he be able to take any calls for a very long time, Senator Adkins. How is your family? I believe they are vacationing at the Hotel Shara in Zurich this week , correct?"

Adkins felt ice creep down his spine. "Who is this?"

The voice answered immediately. "This is the Shadow Broker, Senator. I am , at heart, a businessman, and I dislike it immensely when there are challenges of any kind to business ventures I am involved in. I thought a human of your intellectual breadth and political savvy would have enough sense...or self-preservation instinct...to avoid causing me issues."

Adkins mind raced. "And … FLASHBACK caused you that?"

The Broker laughed, a sound like two trains colliding over a pit leading to Hell itself. "Of course not, human. I have had your project infiltrated for years, before it even got off the ground. The idea of building in drell memory proteins into bio-neuronic drones is brilliant...if that is what you were doing. But using actual drell brains is much better, if unethical, and of course, illegal."

The voice paused, tauntingly, then continued. "No, I reached out to this project because it was the most deeply concealed and heavily protected that you knew about. To demonstrate my … reach."

Adkins bit his lip. "It got my attention. What do you want?"

The Broker's voice was a silky, guttural growl, a mix of contrasts in suave civilization and savage undercurrents. "There is talk of abandoning Shepard as Spectre. There is talk of pulling back Systems Alliance support of the project. It has been ongoing for some time."

Adkins exhaled , shivering. _How can the bastard know that? He must have my goddamned offices bugged? The only people that got anything were the SA Admirals with that recall order to the Normandy. _He forced his voice to stay calm. "Yes, that's been discussed...although I'm not convinced of the need."

The Broker spoke flatly. "Then , Senator, I would very strongly advise you to use every bit of your power to make sure that does not happen. I trust that leaking certain activities that the Systems Alliance has been up to on Rahkana would be taken poorly. Or that incident on Akuze, perhaps even the ugly truth about Elysium. These sort of releases would be paid for handsomely by those interested in such events, but it would be unneeded if Shepard was to remain in the full confidence of the Systems Alliance."

If the floor had fallen out from under Adkin's feet, he could not have felt it. This … alien thing … had penetrated the government of humanity deeply enough to casually name off 3 of the most damning and embarrassing incidents in human military history, cover-ups that kept men up at night hoping the truth would never come out. The message between the lines was clear, and Adkin's took a shaky exhalation of breath as he mastered himself. _Why so heavy handed...unless it's important. He may have me over a barrel, but I can still twist the knife. _

Reaching for a cigar, he lit it , forcing himself to calm, and then spoke. "I always figured you for a calm customer, not wasting anything you could use. You know full well what kind of damage releasing that sort of information could do to the Systems Alliance...and frankly, no, canning Shepard to appease a few Earth First and Terra Firma nuts ain't worth my time."

A calming puff of smoke, and he watched the paneled ceiling of his office for a moment before continuing. "But now I have to wonder what kind of nerve we hit here. I mean, what if I call your bluff, Mr. Broker? Sure, I'll probably end up dead, so will my wife, and the SA will be a shattered wreck...but what's so important about this that you have to have Shepard on this?"

There was silence on the line for a very long second. Then the voice spoke. "We believe Cerberus has an interest in recruiting her for their services. We have evidence that Cerberus's infiltration of your government and economy is further than you even comprehend. And we have hard proof that Cerberus is working with Saren Arterius. This is no longer a profit motive. This is a survival imperative." The voice was like iron, unyielding. "We have no intention of allowing that to happen. I've stated what will occur if you proceed with your plan to replace her, Senator. I am a very bad enemy."

Adkins was still for a very long moment. "I'll see what I can do, then. Is that all?"

The line went dead, and Adkins shakily killed the comm link. He massaged his forehead with one hand, and then slammed his fist down on the link again. "Cherry, get me Admiral Hackett. Now."


	52. Chapter 45 : Recovery, Liara

**A/N**: _Awkward half-talking past each other, and recovery.  
_

_I'm in a writing mood, but it's late, so I probably won't have another chapter up for a day or two...unless I get bored. We'll see.  
_

_Also, marazul : seablue  
_

* * *

**February 2nd, 2183 9:42 A.M. **

_**I am Tyth Kashan, the Avatar of Understanding..**._

_Images of death, blood and pain raced through her mind, 10th Street Reds gleefully leering at her body while they cooked Prothean children alive on spikes...sneering turians laughing at her as her unit was blown to pieces in rusty metal tunnels...sneering lips quirking in amusement as they spoke. _

"_No one could ever love you , Shepard. You're a monster." Pain encircled her heart, and she heard the beeping again of the detonators...beeping, ever so loud..._

"Doctor...I think she's coming to."

Shepard opened her eyes, spikes of hot agony shooting through her head at the lights over head, a moment before a voice murmured something and they were dimmed. Her entire body hurt, heavy dull pains in both legs, hot lines of pain in her stomach, dull, pin-pricks of discomfort over her back. The ceiling of the room was bare steel, with heavy vents in each corner, and surgical lights on swing-arms tucked into the far corner. She glanced around, and the rest of the room was equally bare, filled to the brim with medical computers, pumps, and equipment. A paper diagram four feet wide was taped to one wall with red marks over a stylized human body, haptic notes pinned here and there with 3-M's Portanotes.

IV's and more medical equipment was clamped or otherwise connected to her bed, a heavy medical unit. One of the machines beeped loudly, monitoring her vitals, while her legs were covered in the familiar shape of bone regeneration units. Several different bags of recuperative drugs, nano-formulated medicines, and other medical fluids fed into her body through a shunt on her arm, surrounded by medical tape.

A pair of men in heavy white and silver lab coats stood at the entryway to the room. They were older, one with graying brown hair, and heavy, sad features. His partner was larger and muscular, hard lines in his face speaking of some past sorrow, one eye replaced with a cybernetic lens of some kind that whirred faintly as he stepped forward, his dark black hair peppered with gray and thinning in the front. "Commander Shepard? I'm Doctor Letrau, chief medical officer of the AESV Charles Drew, a medical frigate. How do you feel?" He paused, cutting the machine that was beeping off, and gave a weak smile.

Shepard closed her eyes and groaned faintly. "Why .. do all doctors ask that. I'm in a hospital. I feel like I just got kicked by a Jotun mech. What happened?"

The two doctors glanced at each other, then nodded. "Well, you were badly wounded, as was your team, but everyone survived." He walked over to the nearest panel and began tapping in something, pulling up images of diagnostic scans. "You had your spinal column damaged, which we had to correct with minor cybernetics. Your stomach and intestines were also … affected, which we patched up – mostly your own doctor's work, she's very good. We ran bone regenerators for forty hours straight on your spine, legs, ribs, and extremities, and cleared you of a nasty infection of some kind of aggressive spores. We had to treat internal burns – not to mention burns where you nearly fried your psi-amp implant."

Shepard exhaled, wincing against a pulse of pain in her ribs. "And my team?"

Doctor Letrau shrugged. "The asari was extremely badly wounded and had over-exerted herself. She was also severely burned by acid, heavily infected with the same spores you had, and nearly killed by whatever she was up against. Her skull was cracked, and half the bones in her body were broken or fractured in one way or another. Both lungs punctured, some … well, their equivalent of a spleen and a kidney were ruptured. She's stable now, but we're not 100% sure how much damage the biotic overexertion did to her system."

Shepard nodded faintly, remembering Chakwas' conversation about that. "I …see. She is .. okay though? I mean... my doctor told me that kind of thing could cause -"

He sighed. "Brain damage, sterility, nervous disorders, neural breakdown, tremors, that sort of thing? It's hard to say. She's recovering still from the bone regeneration. She seems cognizant, when she's not out on painkillers."

Shepard nodded. "And Shields?"

The other doctor finally spoke, his voice somewhat thin and reedy sounding. "I'm Doctor Smith-Foster. Ms. Shields is still in critical condition, I'm afraid. She was not severely wounded otherwise, but the impact she took fractured her skull and drove a segment of bone into the brain slightly. There was a lot of cerebral fluid pressure on her brain and we had to relieve that. Her cybernetics seem to be holding up well but she has a liver replacement that is failing, we're going to have to pull and replace that. She hasn't regained consciousness yet, we're moving slowly to make sure there's no brain damage."

Doctor Letrau sighed. "For now, you need to focus on recovery, Commander. You still have another fifteen hours of bone regeneration, and while we gave you blood transfusions, your body is still shocked from the damage it took."

Shepard sighed. "Alright. . . but the Citadel Council will be wanting some kind of report, as will..."

The doctor nodded. "They sent a representative, actually." He paused. "You've just come to, Commander. We can have them wait until tomorrow or -"

She shook her head, immediately regretting it as pain flooded her. "No. Best...to get this out of the damned way. Let's get it over with so I can … rest." She glanced around the room again, frowning. "Where is my ship, by the way?"

Letrau smiled. "It's shadowing us. There's also .. well. You'll find out soon enough, ma'am. There's a large fleet making sure nothing else happens to you. I'll go get the Citadel representative." The two doctors exited the room, the door opening to reveal a wide steel corridor – and the shoulders of two Systems Alliance soldiers in distinctive , black and pale green armor.

_The fuck? X operatives? _Before she had time to wonder why the special forces assigned to the protection of Arcturus were guarding her, the door opened again, and three figures walked in.

The first was her XO, Pressly, in his dress blues, neatly pressed and wearing his garrison hat. His hand held a data-pad, and his expression was both worried and guarded. Next to him was an asari in a conservative white gown with gray panels down the sides, floor length. Her skin was a deep purple, it's exotic coloring highlighted by striking white patterns over each eye and feathery markings along her crests. Finally, behind them both and standing taller than either was a massive turian, in the severe uniform of the Turian Hierarchy. The black and blue cloth was thick , forming a drape over each hip that covered his spurs, while a sort of shawl covered his fringe and draped over each large shoulder, covered in markings that she assumed were decorations of some kind. His plates were black, trimmed with geometric silver markings, over lighter pale white skin. His green eyes reminded her of Nihlus.

The asari spoke first. "Good morning, Commander. I am Irrissa Te'Shora, sub-adjunct to Asari Councilor Tevos and Council Ambassador to the asari. You already know your XO, of course, and this is – "

The turian grunted. "I'm Admiral Hierax Victus, commander of the Citadel Fourth Fleet."

Shepard blinked. "Alright. The doctors said you needed to see me...what about?"

The turian almost smiled. "She's blunt, I like that." He squared his shoulders. "Your XO will undoubtedly give you a full report, but here's the rundown, Spectre. After you fell, Saren's ship fled Feros, we believe with him on it. We have no information on if he's alive or not. The Fourth Fleet responded to your call, but we were...ambushed. First by geth, then by that kirix-fucking bastard of a geth dreadnaught you saw on Eden Prime. It decimated Fourth Fleet. We lost a dreadnaught , over 15 cruisers and 10 other ships."

Shepard shut her eyes, exhaling as she did so. "Goddamn it."

The asari's voice was soft. "As you can expect , there's a lot of concern if this...was worthwhile. Your XO says you have a prisoner, an asari who may have information that can help with us understanding Saren's goals." She glanced down. "As of yet, he's not allowed us to speak with her, nor provided any sort of report to the Council."

Shepard coughed, wincing. "That's because he doesn't answer to the Council. With all due respect, I don't even know what goddamned day it is. Or what happened except one of my crew is half dead and might be crippled, and the other one might have brain damage."

Hierax folded his arms. "We need to find Saren, before he does something else. Your krogan claims to have shot him in the head, but we don't have any evidence to go on. The … geth dreadnaught plasma blasted the colony, so there's nothing left standing for us to examine, or any survivors aside from the Exogeni employees that made it off-world on the Normandy. We haven't even been allowed to interview them!"

Pressly's stance was very stiff. "Ma'am, my orders from the Systems Alliance were very clear. We had a transmission from Admiral Hackett himself, countersigned by Fleet Master Dragunov, that we were to hold position until you either awoke and decided on a course of action, or .. were declared dead, and in that case to report to Arcturus."

Te'Shora shook her head. "This is unacceptable interference in a Council action."

Shepard's lips twisted in a wry grin. "It's not a Council action, ambassador. The Council didn't finalize my status, and I'm afraid that until I've had a chance to interview everyone involved, I can't make any firm choices about who to let go or who to shoot in the head." She paused. "Let me get my XO's report, and then I'll get back to you. Please."

The two aliens glanced at each other, and then Te'Shora made a delicate gesture of siari. "Of course, Commander. My best wishes on your speedy recovery. We will be waiting for your … response." Without another word they turned and departed, and Pressly let out a long whistle of breath. "It's good to see you awake, Commander. We were worried when they brought you in."

Shepard grunted, leaning her head back against the pillow of the bed. "I need a sit-rep, Pressly. What the hell happened?"

Pressly tersely narrated the events of the past few days – the escape, the battle, medical issues, the conversation with Tetrimus, and then turned to the captive. "She says her name is Shiala, and that she used to work for Benezia. She claims that she was … absorbed . . .by what she calls the Thorian, and that it transferred a method for deciphering Prothean Beacons to her mind, and through her mind, to Saren. She claims she can do the same for you."

Shepard was still for a moment, then cracked a smile, a full smile that transformed her whole face for a moment. "Fucking finally. If I can make some kind of sense of this shit in my head...maybe we can predict what that pointy-faced fuck is going to do next." She sighed. "For now, keep her in confinement on the Normandy. Tell her if her information is good, we will see about getting her a lighter sentence for her crimes."

Pressly nodded. "We took on all the Exogeni mercs and the few techs and scientists that survived, as well as Ethan Jeong. Jeong met with the Shadow Broker's representative yesterday and , well, vanished...I .. I couldn't really hold him on board without a reason, ma'am."

Shepard snorted. "Best thing you could have done, Pressly. What went down on Feros was...bad. The less we have to do with it, the better off we all are. If there's no evidence left, we at least won't be held responsible for the shit they were pulling down there. Speaking of which, suit tapes. What we saw – "

He shook his head. "Sorry , Commander. The geth jamming prevented the suits from uploading footage until you got the comm tower down, and after that the frequencies you cleared didn't include the loading frequency either. We only have the last 15 minutes or so of tape from some of the suits. " He glanced down at his feet, hands gripping his pad. "Liara's suit cam was so badly damaged it didn't bring up anything, but we have footage from yours. It shows Benezia picking up Saren and calling for backup, and Saren speaking at least briefly. Wrex's shot didn't kill him."

Shepard sighed and nodded. "I had that fucker, and then I don't know what happened. My shots were blocked, something nearly broke my back, and the instant I get up it feels like someone shot me with a dreadnaught main gun right in the tummy." She lifted her arm, wincing, and then set it back down on the bed.

Pressly nodded. "Orders, ma'am?"

Shepard paused, then gave a thin smile. "Maintain what you've been doing. Giving this Shiala to the Council won't do them a lick of good, and getting her back from the asari is likely to be a pain in the ass. I'll deal with their bullshit." She paused. "Ship refueled?"

Pressly gave her a look. "Yes, ma'am. Fueled and decontaminated. All nav and ops checks completed, the extra Mako we took on refitted with weapons and armor plating, spare suits of armor drawn up for Dr. T'soni, and top to bottom inspections conducted. We still need some repairs and supplies at the Citadel, but we're ready to go when you are healed up, ma'am."

Shepard gave Pressly another smile. "Ah, XO, you're too good to me. For now, just...hold and wait. We'll see how long it takes to get out of this madhouse."

* * *

As it turned out, it took another 3 days. Shepard was not even remotely fully healed yet, angry scars still covering her torso under thick infused bandages, and her legs still hurt from the forced regeneration. The feel of cold steel in the small of her back was also disconcerting, but at least she had no nerve damage.

The days passed slowly, with little to do aside from review the net. The first shaky images from the Battle of Feros were now live on the net, with horrified commentary of the sheer power of the geth dreadnaught. Governments mobilized fleets and laid plans for new construction, and an emergency meeting of the Council immediately amended the Treaty of Fairaxen to allow additional dreadnaught construction for all races.

News reports on what happened at Feros, specifically, were scattered and often completely off target. The Council was saying it was a strike at catching Saren that almost succeeded, along with a blurb that Commander Shepard had been wounded but was "recovering and is in good health" , a comment that made her snort, despite the pain. The doctors kept her sedated half the time, giving the bone regenerators time to work, and she was grateful for the respite from said pain.

She was able, on the third day, to get out of her hospital gown and put on a rather loose-fitting set of BDU's and get out of her room. The two guards on her door were indeed X7 Secret Service agents, who were part of a six-man security detail provided by Senator Adkins, who was , in their words "worried about the safety of humanity's most important soldier." Shepard wasn't sure if she trusted that or not, but X7's were no one anyone wanted to fuck with, and having some body guards when she couldn't even lift her pistol wasn't something she was going to start a fuss about.

She managed to get food down and get off her IV, and then went to the asari segment of the small medical ship to check on Liara. The ship was laid out in an E shape, a human/asari wing on one side , a turian/quarian wing on the other. Eldfell-Ashland used the ship as a flying medical resource for it's mines, factories and refineries in the system, which were a mix of super-heated planets too close to the sun , deep space eezo filtering rigs, and other hazardous environments. They had enough random quarian labor (mostly young quarians on Pilgrimage) to have a section just for them, but the company employed all kinds of aliens, and the ship could take care of them all.

The ship's bare metal, easy to sterilize decor grated on her nerves as she followed painted directions to the asari wing, which consisted of six medical rooms, an operating theater, and a monitoring station staffed by a bored asari nurse and two asari doctors, one of which stood up as she approached. "Ah, Commander Shepard. You're here to see Dr. T'soni, I presume?" The asari was slender, taller than most, and a delicate pale blue, but her features were very plain, except for dark red markings above the eyes and mouth.

Shepard nodded. "Yes, please." The doctor led her to the second room, and touched a door control. "She's awake, but still very weak." Shepard laughed, coughing as she did so, and winced. "Yeah, doc, so am I. Thanks." As it turned out, Liara's room was almost identical to Shepard's, but with less medical equipment, and the addition of a curtain-draped window, revealing the endless night of space sprinkled with stars. Liara lay on an angled bed, covered in a soft gray blanket ,with bone regenerator creches covering her lower body. Her features looked drawn and upset until she looked up and her eyes met those of Shepard's. "Shepard!" The smile that spread across her face transformed it into a thing of beauty, and Shepard couldn't help but smile back.

After a moment, she realized her legs hurt, and so she moved, staggering to a chair to sit wearily. "Hey there, marazul. Just checking in on you." Liara looked baffled. "I.. I'm sorry, my translator didn't catch that word." Shepard paused, then realized she'd slipped into Spanish. "Uh..nevermind. I'm tired and my mouth is moving faster than my brain is. As usual."

There was a stiff, uncomfortable silence, mostly marked by the two of them staring at each other, until Shepard blinked and rolled her neck. "So...how do you.. god. I can't believe I just almost asked how you felt, just like a goddamned doctor. Fuck."

The asari smiled, hesitantly. "I am … better, I think. Tired, mostly." She glanced away, small blue fingers gripping the covers with nervous strength. "I .. goddess, Shepard, I nearly killed my own mother. I have never felt so much...anger, hate... sadness in my life. I .. I did not expect her there. I did not expect her to … actually fight me."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, her lips compressing together. "I'm sorry , Doctor. I didn't think .. I don't know. I thought we could maybe end this quickly, just shoot Saren in the head and arrest your mom. Now..." Liara nodded, but it was a nod at nothing, her eyes fixed at the foot of her bed. "I .. I was worried that I would not be strong enough to .. withstand her. That I would be a liability." She sighed. "And then, when you needed me I was so caught up in battling her, in proving that I was not weak, that I let you get blind sided and almost killed."

Shepard glanced up. "That's not your fault. That's what had to happen. Hell, your mother took out Shields with one biotic blast, she's still jacked up in ICU. If you hadn't have kept her off of us she'd have killed Wrex and me in a few seconds. I was the one who slipped up. You're a lot of things, Doctor...but you aren't a liability at all." Shepard paused. "The doctors...tell me you probably hurt yourself doing that. Going up against her like that."

Liara gave a faint, weak laugh. "Nothing that .. matters." She looked at her right hand, as if seeking something, then laid it back down. "The doctor here worries that I've overstressed my system , and that it will be difficult having children. I doubt I'll ever have the chance."

Shepard closed her eyes, thinking back to that ugly day in the medical clinic where the Alliance medical doctors at the Penal Legion had given her a physical. _"I'm sorry but whatever was done to you was...pretty bad. There's cervical scarring, and they hit you with sterility drugs to prevent pregnancy, I think. There's … nothing we can salvage. You're sterile."_ Shepard cleared her head , and sighed. "T'soni...I'm … sorry. No one ..."

Liara gave her a look, then shrugged. "As I said, Commander, it is … not very important right now. Given what my mother has done to our family name, continuing the line does not interest me much anymore." The soft blue eyes turned to meet Shepard's, and the asari bit her lip nervously. "C-commander... are you all right? You've gone...pale."

Shepard gave a pained smile. "...I.. I never told anyone , but … as a result of what was...done to me, I'm sterile. I can't have...children." She closed her eyes. "I'm not sure what that is for your people , but it's ...hard. I used to … dream of being normal someday...when I was in the Reds. That I'd get clean and...find some perfect man, and … raise a family. Be a _good _mother, the way my … parents should have been." She gave a shaky exhale. "Now, it's a stupid thing to get upset over, I guess. But it's always just...set me farther apart." She exhaled. "No one should have to give that up, Liara. Aren't you Benezia's only child? What happens to your family if you can't have kids?"

Liara's expression was almost blank, but Shepard knew by now that it was a mask Liara wore, just like she herself did. A long moment passed before Liara spoke. "...m.. .. my mother used to … encourage me to go into politics. To learn how to … be a leader, an asari others would follow." She closed her own eyes. "My other parent was also asari. It is very common for asari to commune and join, but very rarely do asari have children with other asari. It is considered...distasteful. We are called purebloods, and … taunted. Shunned."

Liara's soft, melodic voice took on a tone of confused pain. "Growing up my mother shielded me from it where she could, but it was obvious to me that the rest of House T'soni was not going to .. fully accept me. I never could... make myself a part of that family,and eventually I .. I just gave up. To pursue what I .. wanted, or thought I wanted."

Shepard said nothing, and Liara looked at her, eyes tracing her lines. "So in the end, if something happens to my ability to bear children... I do not think it will matter much. We have more important things to worry about." Shepard's mouth tightened. "That doesn't mean it's okay." Liara gave a small smile. "It does not mean I am definitely going to die childless and alone either, Commander."

Shepard nodded , then grimaced. "Call me Sara. I figure if you can stop me from being splattered over a wall by your mother, you can drop the commander garbage." Liara glanced at her uncertainly before she gave a wide smile, and Shepard had to smile back. Liara carefully pronounced her name, then nodded. "And you should call me Liara...I fear my doctorate is doing us little good at the moment."

"Alright , Liara." Shepard stood. "We... may have a lead. There was an asari we captured – or rather, Garrus did, down on Feros. One of Benezia's followers or some shit like that. She said her name is Shiala, and – " Shepard broke off, as Liara's eyes widened. "Goddess. You found Shiala? Shepard, she was my mothers' personal bodyguard and commando, the one who trained me in pistol usage and biotics! She's alive?"

_Well, that's something, I suppose. _"Yeah, she's being held on the ship. According to Wrex, she looks just like the asari that got the drop on me, except she's not green, she's blue. She says she got some kind of mind-imprint from the Thorian that explains how to make sense of the Beacon, and that she can give me the same thing."

Liara nodded. "I see. . . the Thorian." Liara frowned. "I am afraid I did not get a full … explanation of what exactly the Thorian... was. I saw the massive plant creature, of course, but -" Shepard nodded. "It's...ugly. The Thorian was apparently a sentient thing, that was able to absorb the memories and skills of whatever it … ate. And it ate a lot of Prothean corpses after the fall of the Protheans. Exogeni was feeding it criminals in exchange for it using it's knowledge to help us translate the Mars Archive ruins." She sighed. "Doesn't matter now. The damned ship of Saren's blew the whole colony to bits, and it died with everything else down there."

"Goddess...the knowledge it must have possessed. It had the .. minds of actual Protheans? The secrets it must have known...the questions that we could have asked it!" Liara's voice was breathless sounding, and she had an expression of disappointment on her face. Shepard scowled. "Yeah, each one paid for with a human life. The entire colony was .. infested by it's infection, it controlled people and basically took them over. It , according to Shields, produced those... things that vomited on you. Those used to be people. It's better off a pile of ashes, trust me."

Liara's expression wavered, remembering the horrid burning sensation that had enveloped her. "I.. I see." Shepard sighed. "The important thing is that if she has some way to make sense of this...garbage in my head. . . then we can get back on track to finding Saren and figuring out what our next moves are going to be." Shepard exhaled. "And for that... I think it's more than likely I'll need your help again."

Liara said nothing for a long moment, and then glanced up. "Shepa- Sara." She carefully laced her fingers together, as if nervous, then spoke in a hurried rush. "I will of course do whatever you need me to do , but I just wanted to say that I am very sorry for how it turne-"

Shepard held up a hand. "It's...okay, Liara. I didn't think it would be but...the memories are already fading, and , well..." She paused, thinking, eyes staring off into some unseen space, and then gave a smirk. "I've never .. had anyone who .. really got what I was going through. I'm not totally happy with it, but I know what happened last time was... a mess, not your fault or mine." She smiled reassuringly. "Regardless of how it turned out, it's the only way to get this done, and frankly, I'm not … wild about having someone who was working with Saren hooked into my brain. Call me paranoid, but I'd rather have you do it, if possible. How will this sort of thing work?"

Liara licked her lips nervously. "I.. uh. I mean. I could act as a … buffer, I suppose. I would link my mind to yours, and then I would allow her to link to me, and pass what she sends to me to you."

Shepard gave a grin. "Ooh, a three-way. Kinky." Liara gave her a shocked look, then , with a sort of nervous laugh, spoke. "I – what? No , I … I mean I wouldn't … " Liara's flush spread , and she shook her head. "Oh, goddess, you are teasing me again."

Shepard stared at her for a long second before grinning. "You're picking up on the jokes. That's good." Shepard closed her eyes and rubbed her temples tiredly, trying not to think about what all that entailed, or the … sensations that went along with it. _Joke, hell, if you asked me I'd probably strip naked right here. Christ and Virgin, I need to get laid... _There was a strangled sort of sound, and Shepard cautiously opened her eyes, to see the asari almost two shades darker than her earlier blush. Shepard cursed mentally and sighed. "Um...please tell me I didn't say that out loud."

Liara swallowed, eyes flickering everywhere except Shepard's face "I … uh, no. What? I coughed...sorry." She brought up her hand to her mouth and coughed, still blushing, and Shepard stared at her. Liara finally met her gaze, timidly and almost worriedly looking, and Shepard gave a weak smile. "Sorry, Liara. That was...really, really inappropriate. I'm tired, and I hurt, and … dealing with Beatrice tore up a bunch of old wounds."

Shepard stood, grimacing against the lingering aches in her legs, and stepped back from the bed. "I'll...let you recover, and figure out when we can leave." She hurried out through the door, shutting it behind her, Liara unable to get her mouth to work to say anything before the door shut. Liara sank back against her pillows, hearing the human woman's footfalls receding, mind racing in a thousand directions. She realized she was shaking, and carefully placed her hands against one another, closing her eyes.

_Get a hold of yourself , Liara. This is a silly infatuation you have with a fascinating, beautiful alien who saved your life. Goddess only knows how many other people have thrown themselves at her, the last thing she needs is additional worries from me. I have to focus on .. the mission at hand, first. _She swallowed back the dryness in her mouth, then realized she had a silly grin on her face. _On the other hand, the way she said that... goddess..._

Liara tapped the comm button on her medical bed. "Doctor Aentha, I need to know how much longer I'm going to be in medical."


	53. Chapter 46: Recovery, Shields

**A/N: **_Going forward, my stories will be vetted by the incredible __**Owelpost**__, whose work you should be familiar with unless you're some kind of awesomeness-hating Reaper fan. Mostly that's due to the sort of goofy mistakes that have gone through in the past , but I'm sure Owelpost can make contributions here and there to make the story more awesome. Of course, any mistakes are my fault. (Happy?)_

_A few of you have asked for me to draw some things that I've written about. God knows why you'd want to see my crappy line art, but I've put up sketches of Benezia's Armor and the ODIN Shotgun at if you're interested or in need of a good laugh. _

_The story from here on out is divided into Arcs. Arc I was The Trail Begins. Arc II is Putting Together the Pieces. It's mostly about the side missions, and how they actually make sense, instead of being a distraction from the main mission. This chapter is a touch long, but that's because it's more like two shorter chapters shoved together. Enjoy. _

O-OSaBC-O

**ARC II: Putting Together the Pieces**

_I'm waiting  
I haven't seen the ghost  
And am I really here at all?  
I'm silent, I'm the moon  
One eye open  
I'm waiting, waiting  
– A Lily for the Spectre, by Stephanie Dosen_

**February 5th, 2183 11:00 A.M. **

"All hands, this is Commander Shepard, I have the deck and the conn. XO Pressly stands relieved. VI, log the time. Prepare for jump in one five minutes, we're headed to the Citadel. Upon docking and arrival finalization, all hands will turn to for ship inspection, and watch section III will stand by for repair teams. All other personnel will commence leave at that time, rotating one watch section per day. Shepard clicked off the 1MC in the cockpit of the Normandy, tiredly, and nodded at Joker. "Flight Lieutenant, take us out."

The helmsman nodded. "Aye, ma'am. Proceeding toward the mass relay." Shepard turned away, and sighed as Chakwas folded her arms. "I'm fine...they discharged me and said as long as I didn't do anything too stressful I was alright to walk around."

Chawkas arched an eyebrow. "There's a petulant tone in your voice, young lady. I have half a mind to send you to your room to pout." Shepard gave her a blank look, and the doctor cracked a small smile. "A joke, Commander. I'm sure you're fine, it's just that you probably could use some rest before we get to the Citadel. If the interrogation that Te'Shora woman put you through is anything to go by, they'll have lots of questions."

Shepard sighed, running her hands through her black hair before grunting. "Yeah, I can't hardly fucking wait, Doc. Do I get accused of incompetence, dismissed as a loon, or patted on the head?" She pushed off the bulkhead, wincing slightly, and shrugged. "Doesn't matter. How is Beatrice doing?"

Chakwas folded her hands together calmly. "Ms. Shields is resting in the Med Bay. The doctors did a good job, but...she's not fit for any kind of combat in the near future, Commander. She's lucky not to be dead."

Shepard nodded. "I'd better go see her...if you will give us some privacy, I'd appreciate it." Chakwas nodded, and Shepard began trudging to the stairs, eyeing the stations of Ops Alley as she went. The crew met her glances with smiles and stiffened postures, and she saw everything was running at 100% efficiency. Pressly was installed commandingly at the CIC overlooking the galaxy map, barking course orders to Joker, and Shepard gave a faint smile. _He looks natural up there, instead of awkward like I do. But now is not the time to feel sorry for myself._

Reaching the stairs, she slowly climbed down, returning the salute of the CIC guard and reaching for the wall. "Damned legs." Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to walk normally, arching her spine, stretching her legs despite the pain, squaring her shoulders. By the time she reached the mess decks , she was in her usual pantherine stride, eyes flicking left and right.

She entered the medbay, stopping when she saw Shields sitting up in the nearest medical bed, reading a datapad. "Hey. You okay?"

Beatrice glanced up, her gray eyes tired and almost dull. "Not really. The docs...well, they told me I can walk, but I'll probably never be battle worthy again. Part of the damage is to my sense of balance...so I'm kinda screwed now as a mercenary." She pushed her black mane of hair aside, part of it shaven to her skull where the doctors had been forced to operate. She wore BDU's, but with a medical computer-band wrapped securely around her right arm, and her feet were bare.

Shepard shook her head. "You have years and years of battle experience and leadership skills , Bea. You can still do whatever you feel like putting your hand towards. Besides, they can probably correct that stuff with cybernetics or therapy." Shepard glanced around, and then shrugged. "Hell, I caught three hellfire rounds right in the gut, chipped my spine. Ten years ago that would have been a death sentence, but they have me up and walking around. You'll get through it."

Shields rubbed her eyes tiredly with her flesh hand, her cybernetic arm lying limply over her stomach. "Yeah, maybe. Then again, maybe you're just a hardass, Sara. I'm just...tired of being shot to pieces and spending weeks in recovery. Lost an arm already, not looking forward to more metal shoved in me." Shield's voice trailed off, and she tossed the datapad aside. "So, She-bitch. Why are you here, being all awkward and shit?"

Shepard sat on the supply cabinet next to her bed, staring at her own feet. "We..we didn't have a chance to talk much. About...how things have been. About...the old squad. Us. "

Shields gave her a look. "Well, for you things are rosy, but for me, things have been bad. The 3 of us demanded a transfer out of the 2RRU immediately after Torfan, and the brass didn't like that, they wanted us to be your support team. It pissed Baby Blue off so bad he lost it and punched out one of the officers. They gave him a bad conduct discharge, and the last I knew , he went to Tuchanka. I haven't heard from him since, he said he was going to learn how to be a krogan." Shepard gave a faint snort at that, but Shields just sighed.

Shields' voice remained flat as she adjusted her position slightly and continued. "Jason just...vanished after a few months. One day he was with me in the 3 RIU, the next … gone. None of his stuff was missing, just his rifle. They filed it as a desertion, then a missing persons case." She swallowed. "With him gone, the last of the Felonious Chunks was gone, except for me. After that, the 3 RIU got mauled in a fight with biotic extremists, and well... I was tired. I went back to General von Grath and asked him for help, and he hooked me up with Exogeni."

She smiled, a broken, thin expression. "I had a pretty good year and a half. Better pay. People not asking about Torfan or avoiding me as the 'Butcher's Ice Queen.' I could...just be me. Start painting again. Try to heal. Dating, building a real life for once instead of just following. Then … the goddamned Thorian. Then geth. Then..you."

Shepard nodded mutely, saying nothing, rubbing the back of her neck. Shields was silent a long moment and then spoke, almost angrily. "They're setting you up to fail again, you know. You should have been put in charge of a fleet of ships, with Alliance Intel or STG support answering to you. They give you two platoons of marines and a single, untested ship, a handful of people, and a fancy title, and you buy this shit?"

Shepard gave a grim smile. "It...was the best offer we could get at the time."

Shields huffed. "And you're just going to throw yourself into the fucking wood chipper again, huh? Didn't goddamned Torfan teach you anything, She-bitch?"

Shepard flinched, and her hands gripped the fabric around her knees tightly, knuckles whitening. "Bea, there's so much at fucking stake I can't even understand it all. This bastard has a ship that can wipe whole fleets, armies of fucking geth, and is mucking about with Prothean shit no one understands. The Council thinks I'm some kind of clever monkey, the ambassador and the SA think I'm their pet psychopath – just like the Reds did. I'm on a ship that can't even take light GTS fire, with the only person who can help me decipher the clues an alien teenager with even worse problems dealing with people than I have, who, by the way, is the daughter of one of the crazies behind this whole shit. I've got fucking Cerberus, spooky goddamned crime lords, crazy turians...fuck! FUCK!"

Shepard smashed a fist against the wall, and then sharply exhaled, shuddering and straightening. A long moment passed, the only sound that of her heavy breathing as she struggled to get control of herself, and then she spoke, almost in a whisper. "... and if I fuck it up, how many millions will die? They gave this shit to me when all I do is fuck up everything I touch. Except this time , the whole galaxy gets to watch me fucking fail."

Shepard stood, walking to the med-bay windows. The mess was empty, since watch just started, and she gazed at the sharp-edged tables with a dull , throbbing pain in her heart. "I... I was happy to see you , Bea." She looked down. "I've been … fucking lost since you guys left. All I do is kill and kill and stumble through shit and now I'm expected to be a leader, understand galactic politics..."

Shields closed her eyes, jaw trembling. "... I can't help you, Sara." Shepard swallowed, placing her hands on the glass in front of her.

"Because I'm broken?" Shepard's own voice was lost sounding, confused. "God. I just...you all were so .. close to me, the only people who kept pushing to reach out to me , even when I pushed away, that I never... I just .. didn't think. Not in that way. I never have. For the longest time I told myself you were just there to … make sure you survived. Then because you wanted to ride my coattails to greatness. By the time I figured it all out.. everything was … gone."

Shields shook her head slowly, as Shepard turned around. "I can't … be what you want me to be. I don't even know _how._ I can .. be your friend. I can listen, for all the fucking good that will do. I can talk, if you really want me to try to externalize the shit I'm going through. But … "

Shepard's voice grew ragged. "I .. I'm not complete without you, all of you guys...but you're my family not...people I lust after. Your the sister I never had, the only person I could be me with and not worry about fucking the words up..."

Shields gave a tired, weary smile, limned in tears, blurring her vision of the woman in front of her. She grunted, her face twisting in agony as she slid out of the bed, staggering to her feet. Shepard was still standing there , face in her hands, and Shields inhaled against the pain as she took two steps closer. For a moment she balled her fist, and the frustration , pain , sorrow, and longing all just shattered something within her, and she threw her arms around Shepard, burying her face into the other woman's shoulder.

"Feeling...hurts. That's how you know it matters, She-bitch." She squeezed tighter, and Shepard hugged her back, breath coming in hitching sobs. For long seconds, they stood there, saying nothing, and finally Shields pushed away, wiping her eyes with her natural hand. "I need...a fucking smoke."

O-OSaBC-O

It took Shepard almost 15 minutes to get Shields down to the smoking area, most of that spent arguing with Chakwas as she had to redo a torn medigel dressing on Shields' shoulder. Shepard used her biotics to lighten her friend's weight as much as possible, a draining exercise but helpful in reducing her pain, and the two now leaned wearily against the tunnel of the hangar bay, vents overhead sucking away smoke. Bea had put on a pair of combat boots two sizes too big, and was shuffling back and forth in them as she handed her a cigarillo and Shepard lit it, inhaling greedily.

"God, Bea, where the fuck did you find actual Vegan tobacco?" Shepard took another grateful drag, eyes closed and her head resting on the cool metal bulkhead. Shields gave a weak laugh, rolling the cherry of her cigarette around the rim of the welded-on ash tray, bringing the tip of her cigarillo to a neat point. "One of the scientists liked to smoke , brought five whole boxes of the stuff." She inhaled, her beautiful features calm and almost placid in the dim lighting of the passageway.

After a long moment, she spoke again, her voice pitched low. "Your BDO LT is fucking hot. What's his name, Alendo?"

Shepard snorted. "Kaiden Alenko." She paused, tapping out ashes, and then shrugged. "I … look a lot. It's … hilarious, in a way. After all the shit I was put through when I was young, sex isn't something I even .. thought about for years and years. It just didn't...affect me." She inhaled again, blowing streamers of smoke into the air, her storm-front colored eyes seeking out Shields'. "Maybe that's why I never...got it. I .. I just never thought about it, Bea. Swear to God. You guys were...fuck, the only people I trusted. In a way I'm glad I didn't...it would have...ended up hurting someone."

Shields quirked her thin lips, and tilted her head to the side for a second. "We used to argue about it when you weren't around, y'know. Is she into boys or girls? After...Torfan I guess we got our answer. I was ...just so goddamned angry you'd end up with that .. cow of a sister of Jason's."

Shepard grimaced. "Well, she played me like a damned instrument. She met me on the leave we had before Torfan, chatted me up about guns and space piloting, bought me a drink to celebrate Contact Day, and as it turned out, had done service with Anderson in the past. She just .. .talked around all my awkwardness, and got me … smashed."

Shields shook her head. "Bitch."

Shepard shrugged. "I was... I don't know. Maybe she had something she put in my drink or maybe I was just...aware. She was clingy, and every time I said something I thought was stupid or off, she seemed to get it or find it funny or witty. I .. I honestly thought I had found someone who got me. I had you guys...but..."

Shields winced, inhaling again. "But you saw us as family, not fuck buddies. That's just stupid on our part, sticking together from 16 to 25 and then we expect you to fall in love. Not that I'm letting you off the hook for sleeping with that tramp, but.."

Shepard nodded sadly. "When it … went bad, she told me she didn't love me, that no one would ever love a monster. That... "She paused, voice breaking slightly. "That Jase had told her all these horrible things about me." She placed her hand over her eyes, her lips twisting in memory. "I was … a wreck by then. I don't even remember everything that went down, Bea, but... I know I shot the bitch. I made damned sure of that."

Shields nodded. "You told us. At the bar." Shields flicked ashes from the cigarillo and glanced up. "You just left it at that? No more … you know?"

Shepard laughed bitterly. "Oh, god, after that bullshit dog and pony show on Torfan, people were just throwing themselves at me. Men, women, asari, a fucking turian, two goddamned salarians. I got turned into some kind of fucking sex symbol overnight , which I still don't understand, and people kept expecting me to be like Branson and live it up. But no... I never...did anything. Too scared. Too nervous. And too pissed off. All I wanted to do was kill pirates and kick batarians in the head, but they kept trotting me out to public events." Shepard scrubbed out her cigarette, and made a flicking motion with her fingers. Shields handed over the pack along with her lighter, and Shepard fished one out. "I remember some reporter asking me what brand of purse I used. And makeup." She lit the cigarette, the flame casting a golden glow over her features.

Handing it back, Shepard leaned back against the bulkhead again, smoke trickling from her nostrils. "What a goddamned joke."

Shields nodded, cutting her eyes to the right as the elevator opened, and Wrex strode out, still clad in clothes instead of armor. "Hey, ugly. Get your fat ass over here." Wrex whirled, red eyes glaring, then his mouth split into a good natured grin and he lumbered over. "Shields. Hmmph. Still soft , I see, laying around wounded all the time."

She gazed up at the big krogan, her smile wider. "Still ugly , I see. I always wanted to know, did you lose a fight with a varren, or did one of the krogan girls fix your face up with those claw marks?" The krogan gave a laugh and crouched between the two human woman. "It's good to see ya, battle turtle."

Wrex rumbled in his chest, a sort of humming noise that passed for amused agreement among krogan. "I never will forget the expression Zaon had on his face when you shot him in the quad, Shields. Never knew our voices could go so high." The krogan paused, looking her over. "You look okay, human. I suppose if you're up smoking that weak human leaf, then you must be done bleeding from playing kissy with the wall. You alright?"

She shrugged. "The doctors … my balance is shot, brain damage. I'm okay otherwise, mostly, but Sara had to help me stay upright and use biotics just to get me out of the medbay. They're talking cybernetics, maybe cloning, but brain injuries are so iffy that it could kill me putting me under the knife."

Wrex shrugged. "You're a warrior, Shields. I saw you in the fire of Torfan, fearless and strong. Human females have always been the strong ones of your species, I realized that after seeing you two in action. If you can't fight on the battlefield, that doesn't mean you can't still fight elsewhere."

Shepard nodded. "I told her that, but you know us women. We had to talk about it, and cry , and then talk about it some more." Her voice was dry and sarcastic, and she glanced in Wrex's direction, who groaned.

"Always picking on the krogan...you're not gonna let me forget that, are ya?"

Shepard blew a smoke ring in his face. "Nope."

The krogan rolled his eyes, and turned to Shields again, who exhaled , extinguishing her own cigarette. "I haven't made up my mind. We'll see what kind of reception I get from Exogeni at the Citadel. " Wrex nodded, although he looked down at her sharply.

"If they don't want you, you should come with us. These marines Shepard has are softer than volus butter. Their chief, Cole, is hard, but the rest, pfagh. They bleed and cry from every wound they get!"

Shepard snorted. "No redundant circulation system or backup organs, big guy. You keep forgetting that."

Wrex gave a disgusted sounding chuckle. "It's just you people are so squishy and fragile. At least asari heal fast , you just break all the time."

Shields nodded. "Speaking of healing fast, the asari you have with you...she doing okay? She seems … kinda hostile towards me."

Shepard sighed. "I haven't actually checked on her since we got back on board. And as far as the hostility goes, that's a really, really long story, Bea. Shortest version is that she's got a big case of hero worship and knows enough about Torfan to blame you guys for not sticking around."

Shields gave a weary shrug, shaking the pack of cigarillos to extract another. "She can get in fucking line, then. God, the shit we got transferring away from the 2RRU was something to behold. A few of the 2RRU who survived called us traitors, and von Grath wouldn't speak to us, kept shuffling us off to see the yeomen. General Florez damn near had an apoplectic fit right there in the barracks." She lit the cigar, puffing away, and smirked.

Shepard sighed, as Wrex looked from one female to the other. "Figures. Your kind never bothered to understand you, Shepard. You should have just done what Shields and I did; gone into merc work. Cleaner, no questions, and no worries but how you spend the money."

Shepard smiled. "I had a capital punishment penalty against me. That's 40 years service before I can quit the military, unlike you , Bea." She took a drag from her cigarillo, licking her lips as she knocked dead ash from the cherry. "Besides, if I had done that, God knows who they would have picked to go after Saren. Branson? That wimpy fuck, Delacor?"

Shields laughed. "Oh, god, Delacor. That poor, poor bastard. I remember they put him in charge of the 3 RIU , and the day he takes command, he finds out his fiance got killed in an aircar accident. Silly bastard starts crying like a little child, right in front of the entire fucking unit standing at attention. I mean, yeah it's horrible...and whoever gave him the message right then should be pistol-whipped..." She shook her head, taking a long drag from her cigarillo, and blew air through her lips. "But come the fuck on. The guy wasn't ever gonna be Spectre material, She-bitch."

Shepard leaned back against the wall, sighing. "Yeah, well...I'm not sure I am, either."

O-OSaBC-O

The next day dragged along slowly for Shepard, although she was glad she'd managed to clear the air with Shields. After another series of medical examinations and more time on the bone regenerator, Chakwas grudgingly cleared her for light normal duty, and Shepard was able to sleep in her quarters again. Almost guiltily, she asked about Liara, but Chakwas didn't have much of an update on her condition. Liara herself was asleep on the cot in the science lab , exhausted from being hooked up to the bone regeneration equipment for such a long time, and Shepard made the mistake of asking why it took so long to get her fixed up.

This ended up getting Shepard rewarded with a rather dry discussion of differences in asari and human physiology, and she learned that asari spinal columns were made up of two bone columns. The bones were heavier than human spinal bones, with sensitive nerve tissue carefully packed with heavy muscle and body fat around them, and natural shock absorbers in the form of spinal fluid running between the two columns. It also explained why Liara's overall condition was better – the asari skeleton was more capable of taking extreme physics shocks, like biotic throws, than the comparatively flimsy human skeleton.

The Council had been informed of their arrival time , and now Shepard had nothing left to do but interview Shiala. She was nervous, not just because it would require more joining mind to mind, but because she didn't have any way of knowing what the hell would be in her head if the asari was telling the truth about being able to decipher it.

_Saren went crazy for a reason. I wonder if he got exposed to more than one of those goddamned Beacons and went right off his little nut. Wouldn't blame him if he did, Christ , that shit is … ugh. _Shepard's half-formed thoughts were broken as Garrus got into the elevator with her. "Commander, you feeling better?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. You did a good job down there, Vakarian. The scouting, and pulling us out of that mess. Thanks."

The turian shrugged absently , his plates taking on a dull sheen in the dim lighting inside the elevator. "I did what felt right, and sometimes, you get lucky. The important thing is that if this Shiala can give you the information we need...we might have a real lead on that bastard." He paused. "I've done lots of interviews of criminals and police interrogations, if you think it would be helpful to have me there."

Shepard shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, I do. But I've done my share too. And frankly, I don't want too many people in the room." The elevator finally opened, and Shepard glared at it as she stepped out. "Remind me to have this thing torn out and replaced when we get to the Citadel, Vakarian. Turians can't build elevators for shit."

The C-Sec sniper sniffed. "At least our armor can take more than spat gullet stones before shattering like glass, Sheep." He flicked his talons over his fringe and spotted Tali glumly surveying her ration pack on the table. "And now it's off to explore the joys of sterilized field rations. It's better than protein bars, but not by much."

Shepard nodded. "I'll pick up some decent dextro chicken feed on the Citadel." She grinned and stepped out of the way of a playful swat from the detective, then entered her quarters. Glancing around to make sure all was in order, she stripped off her uniform and opened her personal armor locker.

Her Spectre armor was a complete write off, of course. She'd get some more once they docked. So she pulled out her older N7 armor, laying each piece out on the bed, noticing that the chest and arm pieces looked like new. "Damn, Ash, you do pretty good work." With a small smile she put on the armor, noticing how much lighter and flimsier it felt than the heavy, high tech Spectre armor. "If I'd been wearing this stuff, I'd be dead right now."

After dressing in the armor, and checking her pistol, she triggered the ships comms. "Master Chief Cole, bring the prisoner to my quarters." She paused, sighing. "Doctor T'soni, please report to my quarters." Clicking off the comm, she sat down at the single table, folding her arms and waiting.

Liara was the first to enter, wearing yet another of her University of Serrice uniforms, the gleaming white and green material far too form fitting and distracting for Shepard's taste. Her features were set in a neutral expression, but the eyes were.. worried and nervous. Shepard gave what she hoped looked like a reassuring smile and gestured to the other chair. "Have a seat. Everything alright?"

Liara gracefully sat, the motion so elegant that Shepard felt clumsy in comparison. "I am .. well. I have been running some spectrometric analysis of the material the towers and skyways were made from on Feros. Those towers were over a thousand years older than the material on Therum. I wonder how long it took to … destroy...the Prothean Empire. "

Shepard shook her head. "It's too jumbled up for me to know right now, but .. I don't know. Building a set of beacons like this is something you do at the end-game. It's an act of desperation. Hell, I don't even know how the things work."

Liara was about to respond , eyes bright, when the door snicked open and Master Chief Cole escorted Shiala through the door. His hands were full of an extremely ugly Katana shotgun with a widened barrel and an extra mass acceleration pack on the bottom, in what Marines jokingly called a "boom stick". The Katana was preloaded with the carnage mod, and the double mass barrels spat out a cone of shrapnel that would pulp anything in its path. He gestured the other asari to the bed, and then installed himself in the corner, the gun pointed at her head in a loose fashion.

Shiala, for her part, seemed calm, sitting quietly on the bed, and folding her hands together. She wore spare marine BDU's with the SA patch removed, and there was a biotic field disruptor draped around her neck on a chain. The device was basically a mass pulsar field set to disrupt a building biotic flare before it could start. They were uncomfortable to wear, and Shepard was glad to see Cole was taking no risks.

Shepard glanced at Liara before speaking. "You probably know me. I'm Commander Shepard, Council Spectre. The man guarding you is Master Chief Cole, and you already know Liara."

Shiala nodded. "It is good to see you again, Little Wing. You look … well."

Liara swallowed. "And you, Shiala. The last we saw of each other was...ages ago. More than 30 years. You look... different."

Shiala gave a laugh, weak and weary sounding. "And you are still too kind. I look half-dead and broken, because I am." The asari turned to face Shepard, the pale blue eyes half lidded. "I am here to explain my crimes and what I know of what Saren is doing, in hopes of stopping him before we are all lost."

Shepard frowned, but nodded. "I'm listening."

Shiala spread her hands , in a elegant gesture. Liara seemed to relax, and Shepard made a note to ask her about it later. Shiala's calm, quiet voice filled the captain's cabin. "I was an asari commando leader of the Serrice Guard unit funded by House T'soni. As one of the Thirty Families, their security was paramount to all of Thessia, and the Serrice Guard was happy to provide it's assistance to one of our proudest Houses. As a result, I was in Matriarch Benezia's service over 400 years."

She gave a weak smile, glancing at her hands. "For years I was but a guard, then a guard captain, and finally a commando. The training is difficult, with asari huntresses hounding you, and the Ocean Guard sniping you with live rounds designed to wound but not kill, but I succeeded. Benezia tapped me to personally lead her bodyguard, and train her daughter in the biotic war and hunting arts. Liara proved a very apt pupil."

Liara smiled. "When I wasn't digging up holes in the grounds or buried in the librams."

Shiala's expression brightened for a moment, and then filled with new pain. Despite herself, Shepard found herself leaning forward. "Go on, then. What happened to Benezia that would make her do something like this?"

Shiala sighed. "Benezia's .. philosophy was to guide what she called lesser races. Not to patronize them, but to provide them a way to improve their own cultures and futures, using asari progress as a sort of ruler and guide book. In the process, asari culture would have been … upheld. And the future of the asari people assured. She meant well, but as time went on, she became...upset." Shiala paused. "The loss of her … partner … made her very difficult to deal with at times, and while she hid it around Liara, there were many, many nights she cried herself to sleep. Sometime after Liara began showing a .. resistance to the direction the Matriarch wished her to go in, Benezia began entertaining Saren."

Shiala frowned. "If I recall, Saren had met her years before, with his brother, during the Relay 314 incident." She didn't notice the frown Cole gave her at the name, continuing on blithely. "He returned years later, more bitter, and they spent … a great deal of time together. I remember thinking it was a good thing, as he drew her out of the shell she had built around herself. The... distance between you and your mother hurt her , even if she never let you see that, Little Wing."

Liara's expression crumbled, and Shepard grit her teeth. Shiala smiled apologetically and continued. "After several years, though...Saren and Benezia went on a trip, without us. Without any bodyguards or staff, actually. When they returned they were...different. Driven. Angry." She paused. "The matriarch began buying up ships, weapons, supplies. She had us train day and night, and then she had us all put on a frigate she bought and we flew to a world we'd never seen before, where we docked with Sovereign."

Shepard nodded. "The big black dreadnaught, correct? Is it a geth ship, or did the geth just find it?"

Shiala shook her head. "You...will not want to believe me. It is not geth at all. The ship … is much older. The more time you spend on it, the more you start.. hearing things. Voices. Urges. Saren called it indoctrination. The ship makes you want to obey Saren, to follow him, admire him...even worship him. Your will is gone , you live only to obey, and it becomes hard to think, to remember. Impossible to resist."

Shepard frowned. "So the ship has some kind of brainwashing effect?"

Shiala nodded. "Yes. Saren had scientists at his base studying it, trying to reverse it, but they … usually ended up going crazy . So did a few of the commandos...one of them just..lost it, biotics flaring everywhere, then she stiffened and blood just came gushing out of her mouth and nose. She collapsed dead on the spot, body quivering for a couple of minutes after that. But the voices, they made you not care." Shiala licked her lips and glanced at Liara. "I fear Saren took Benezia to the ship and it .. dominates her now. She is not herself. She is cold and icy where she was once warm; she is cruel and dispassionate and warped."

Shiala glanced away, and Shepard frowned. "So … you aren't responsible for the actions you took while working for Saren? Is that the story?"

Shiala's eyes flashed, a mix of misery and upset. "I assure you, it is no story. But I don't deny that I am responsible. Just that … my mind was affected. I was doing what I thought was right. The voices don't give you a choice. First , they are soft. They make you look at things differently. They cajole, they make you give into urges, they encourage your fears. Then they affect how you think...and before long, it's just so... easy to stop fighting and let them run everything." She shuddered.

"In any event, up until Feros, we were their bodyguard. Benezia had us act as her fist, we … aided Saren in tracking dig sites with Prothean artifacts. He was looking for starmaps, at first, then battle sites, and finally, places where Dark Beacons had been found." She shook her head. "If he told us to kill, we killed, if he told us to seduce, we seduced. We were his puppets. He eventually found out about ...Eden Prime, from some sort of contact he had. A human. I don't know his name, only that he was tall, taller than Saren even." Shiala paused.

Shepard frowned. "Where is Saren operating from? How do we get at him?" Shiala shrugged weakly. "It's.. I don't know. He spoke several times of the base 'at Virmire', but we never went there. He had small bases in lots of places, caches of weapons, hideouts, meeting spots with contacts he had." She frowned, lips pursed, and then continued. "Saren had a base on Miath, where we operated out of, and another one somewhere on Thessia itself, but they were in the process of abandoning them when Saren decided to attack Feros, after his raids and attacks on Exogeni."

Shepard nodded. "Better than nothing. Now...the Thorian. What the hell happened down there? You said he gave you to the Thorian..why? What did he get out of it?"

Shiala paused. "They...gave me to the Thorian to be consumed and used. Not just me. Niala, Gairsi, Yleha, Mirsda. All of us were fed to that thing. It burned the Prothean knowledge into my head. Something they called a Cipher, some kind of … imprinting program for what they called 'client races.' It allowed the races to .. no, that's not the right word. It taught the races under them to be more Prothean." Shiala massaged her crests softly, and Shepard frowned.

"Saren needed this Cipher to understand the Beacons?"

Shiala nodded. "And to keep them from killing him. The Protheans protected the Beacons from the indoctrinated, somehow, and the visions were...slowly tearing his mind apart. He couldn't make sense of the vision, and with the Cipher he hoped he could."

Liara glanced at Shepard, before speaking. "Shiala...this indoctrination. It makes you a slave of Saren, so why are you helping us?"

Shiala gave a helpless gesture. "When the Thorian absorbed me, it .. did something to me. I was myself again, horrified. I was...free. The Thorian had some way of breaking it, although it... hurt. I don't think I'm entirely whole anymore. I can't make my biotics work, even if this pulsar wasn't turned on, and I can't think as clearly as I once could."

Shepard pursed her lips. "This Cipher can be passed on, you said. Through joining minds, I suppose?"

Shiala nodded. "It … at the end, I remember watching, through the Thorian's .. senses. It was going to betray Saren, but it was destroyed by Benezia, and the last thing the Thorian did was...unhook itself from me. It had time enough to do that, to push me out in the hope that I could do something to disrupt Saren's plans. Not out of any sense of wanting to help, just spite and hate." Shiala glanced back up. "But …"

Liara glanced over at Shepard. "Shepard, I expect you have concerns about joining your mind to hers. But if she is correct, then this Cipher may be the key to truly understanding the Beacon message. If that information can put us on the track of Saren, and my mother..." Liara exhaled. "You have her guarded, and if I act as a buffer, then .. you should not be in any danger."

Shepard closed her eyes a long moment before nodding. "Cole, if something happens, call Chakwas. Liara, do it." Shepard realized she was shaking slightly and with an effort stood quietly and waited, as Liara carefully approached the other asari. _She looks nervous and uncomfortable. Great. _

Liara took Shiala's hand, and the eyes of the other asari went black. After a long moment, Liara almost languidly held out her other hand, and Shepard, grimacing , took it.

The warmness of Liara's hand faded in a burst of light and pain, and a feeling of the entire world falling into an abyss around her.

_Images stormed around her, speeding in hideous counterpoint to her memories, before spinning into blackness, and then a single figure strode forward._

"_I am Tyth Kashan , the Avatar of Understanding. If you are seeing this, our Empire has fallen. The Reapers are too much for us, and our ploys and plans have all fallen through." _

"_Yet hope remains alive. Our holdfast at Ilos remains undiscovered, and our examination of the Inusannon super-weapon showed us the Reapers can be cast out. We understand now, and we are taking actions to prevent them from returning."_

"_You are needed at Ilos. It matters not if you are Prime or Subject race, all must respond. The Conduit will allow us to transiti-"_

_The message turns to horror, the images clear now, the broken might of a galaxy at the rapacious hands of monsters. Thousands upon thousands of black, leaf shaped ships falling upon the galaxy, millions of lives burned to ashes in minutes. The image becomes more confusing, fragmented, and ends in a burst of pain._

Shepard opened her eyes, disoriented for a long moment. Cole had stepped forward, but only because Shiala now slumped on the floor, blood trickling from her nose and mouth. Liara was dazed as well, sunk to one knee, a hand gripping the table to keep her upright, eyes wide and staring as if unable to focus on anything. Shepard knelt to her first. "Liara?"

The asari shook her head, moaning faintly as she did so. "Shiala...oh, Goddess, no." The little asari moved forward, lifting Shiala's head, and gave a sob. "No!"

Shepard put her hand on Liara's shoulder. "What...happened. That was nothing like the first time."

Liara cradled the older asari's head as she looked up, tears in her eyes. "Shiala...was more experienced than I was. She … passed the Cipher on, and took the whole force of the vision onto herself, shielding ME from it. Her mind couldn't take it, just like mine couldn't, when you had to save me."

Shepard glanced down. "And we can't save her?"

Liara shook her head. "She...knew what she was doing. I could sense that. She was...not lying, Shepard. She was a screaming prisoner in her own head the whole time, unable to do anything but that monster's every sick wish. My mother...is trapped. My family's retainers are his slaves. She did this because...she wanted to be free of the pain. Of the horror of what she had gone through. And I couldn't even stop her!"

Liara bowed her head, and closed the empty eyes of the asari woman in her arms. Shepard noted Shiala had died in obvious pain, with a bitter smile on her lips. "She went out bravely, then. You can't blame yourself, Liara." She squeezed the asari's shoulder, and her voice dropped. "She did what she had to do, to make sure you were okay. She cared about you, and … she died protecting you from any harm, while giving us what we needed to stop that pointy-faced fuck."

Liara swallowed and nodded, gently laying Shiala on the bed. Shepard stood, rubbing her temples, and gestured to Cole. "Take the body and...prepare it for space burial, Master Chief. She may have been an alien, but she died fighting and she died hard, she deserves our respects."

Cole nodded, putting away his gun and carefully lifting the body of the asari in his arms. "I'll handle everything, ma'am. And I'll let Dr. T'soni know when we're ready." He exited the room, and the doors shut with quiet finality. Shepard guided Liara back to the chair and helped her sit. "You okay?"

Liara rubbed her temples and nodded. "I... I will be fine. It .. was it worth her dying, Shepard?"

Shepard nodded. "For one, the damned vision makes sense. And more importantly, I know now what the fuck Saren is looking for. He's seeking a planet called Ilos."

Liara glanced up. "Ilos? But Ilos .. is a myth. A rumored fantasy world of the Protheans filled with treasure." Shepard shook her head. "The Beacon was .. a summons. For Protheans to go to this Ilos, where they were preparing some kind of counterstrike to the Reapers. The message was incomplete – probably because the Beacon blew up – but it mentioned the Conduit, and something about a super weapon."

Liara looked lost. "But no one knows where to find Ilos! People have been searching for it for millennia. Does the beacon give you no clues?"

Shepard closed her eyes, thinking, and then nodded slowly. "Maybe. There's a picture of it, and rushing stars. I'll try to match it to a star-map and see what we come up with. In the meantime, though, I finally have a goddamned motive, or at least something I can tell the Council. Saren's looking for Ilos, and Prothean super-weapons." Shepard sighed, and glanced at the clock. "You should get some rest, doctor. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow at the Citadel, and after that I'm pretty beat."

Liara nodded, standing. "I'll be in the science lab if you need me, Shepard." She looked like she was going to say more, then suddenly turned and left, leaving Shepard alone in her stateroom with nothing but a smear of asari blood on the floor.

Shepard gazed at it a long moment before pulling down Anderson's scotch and a glass, pouring herself a stiff drink. She slammed it back, grunting as the liquor burned through her system, and leaned back in the chair. "Here's to you, Shiala. I'll make sure to add you to the list of people I'll cut into that bastard's heart when I catch him next time."


	54. Chapter 47: Normandy, Moments II

**A/N: **_We are getting closer to more action, but we need moar fluff first! I still have to move people around emotionally to the places they need to be in, and the game just never did enough of that for me, or it was too pro forma. A lot of the AU in this fic has to do with actually making Liara seem like a shy uncertain person with an inner core of strength and enormous biotic power instead of just telling us over and over that is the case. Development of Garrus, and the closeness with Shepard, comes very soon. _

_This week's Story That is Much Better than mine is : **A memory shared, a connection forged** by **Bebus**. This one is just mind blowingly good. _

_If you keep track of the BSN, you've seen the previews of the Omega DLC, which is again, lackluster from what we know. I don't like judging before trying but it sounds like another Leviathan – kick-ass idea, bad implementation. However, it's given me another idea for a one-shot, so look out for that._

_As usual, if you aren't reading Dark Energy, Glacial Fire, and Spirit of Heroism, you really, really should. Each one of those Liara's is a contrast to mine in different ways. _

* * *

**February 5th, 2183 4:00 P.M. **

Liara lay back on her cot, her hand over her eyes, lost in memories of days gone by. Seeing Shiala had brought back memories of a time when she didn't feel like an outcast, and of happier, simpler tasks and goals than chasing fallen heroes through space.

"_Little Wing, you must concentrate! Do you think your mother would be pleased by this sloppy display of your biotics?" Shiala's stern voice rang out, touched with a hint of exasperated warmth, and Liara winced. _

"_N-no, hunt mistress."_

_Shiala snorted, her face covered in the ritual marks of a full Huntress of Athame. She wore commando leathers, tight black and hugging her every curve, with an armored mantle of thousand of tiny titanium plates woven into the shape of a long coat over her shoulders, each one inscribed with runes of wisdom and infused with small pulsar generators to deflect biotic blasts. _

_The house of T'Soni Outrier was built high upon an out-thrust pinnacle of rock, connected to the mainland by a span of spray-worn stone. The ocean boomed all around them, smashing its eternal fury on the rocky beaches below, and sheer shale cliffs rose up 400 feet to the edged of the hold-fasts reinforced metallic walls. The courtyard they practiced in was all smooth, cut stone, stylized into the form of waves, with the occasional flame-tree and bithainan bush tastefully placed in circular plinths heaped with tiny blue flowers. _

_Shiala and Liara were not alone. Next to Shiala was Liara's aunt, Mithra. The older asari woman had a frown of distaste on her face, her elegant silver robes split down the middle just below her breasts, revealing her flat stomach. She stood legs apart, the lower robes splitting again to reveal long, pale silver leather boots tipped in gold, and a chain of pure platinum encircled her waist, supporting the spine of the writings of Athame that she carried at all times as a priestess. "This is a waste of time, Shiala. The p... Liara...is simply not bothering to focus. Let her – "_

_Shiala gave the matron an arch glare. "I do not recall asking you, Mithra. If you want to observe and offer assistance, fine. If you came to denigrate my pupil, get out." Not even bothering to wait for a reply, she fixed her gaze on Liara again, her voice soothing and calming now. _

"_Now, again, but do it right this time. Feel the field, balanced inside your body. Feel the cool energy rise up your legs, through your center...let it extend and move through you, like the ocean slipping through a field of seaweed. Do not fight it. Bend with it, let it bend with you, and then… release."_

_Liara scrunched up her little face, hands clenched in concentration, and then pushed, a wave of azure light blasting from her form to slam into the steel practice barrier. This time the metal deformed and buckled, giving an alarming screech as it did so. The other asari's eyes widened in poorly concealed shock as Liara gave a yell and let out a second blast, this one tearing the steel barrier right out of the ground and snapping it half, one piece flying halfway across the courtyard to land in a discordant crash. The other piece skidded a few feet into a nearby wall and slammed to a stop._

_Liara gave a shaky sounding exhale and swayed on her feet, and Shiala calmly walked over to steady her, placing her hand on the young girl's shoulder. "Now that was worthy of a T'Soni, Little Wing." Liara looked up, and Shiala's face split into a fierce smile of approval. "Some full commandos can't hurl a throw that strong."_

_Mithra's face twisted, and she spun on a heel, stalking out of the courtyard angrily. Liara watched her go, her large eyes sad. "Shi-shi, why does Aunt Mithra not like me? I … I try my best in class and -"_

_Shiala's hand ran comfortingly over Liara's crests. "Hush. Mithra's just upset her own children have turned out to be little more than street thugs. Don't worry about her little temper tantrum. The important thing is that you are continuing to do well."_

_Another voice rang out, amusement thick in its tones. "I see my daughter has been hard at work this afternoon?" Benezia rounded the corner, dressed in a pale yellow dress of three slightly different colored layers. Her face was set into a proud smile, and Liara's heart leapt in her chest as she struggled to keep her expression calm. _

_Shiala laughed , as a gust of wind sent musical chimes from the flame-trees sounding around the courtyard. "She has indeed, Matriarch. I know you have plans for Liara to enter the Vasytre Academy and follow in your footsteps...but truly, give me 50 years and I could make her a commando to rival Aria herself. When she focuses, or gets angry, the kantha killing strength in her is greater than anything I've seen in a long time."_

_Benezia nodded, walking up and taking Liara's hand in hers, almost possessively. "She is my daughter, and no matter what she decides to become, she will be great." Benezia's face softened as she looked down at Liara with a loving expression. "I will always be proud of you, Little Wing. Now, in you go. You need to eat and study."_

_Glowing from her mother's praise, Liara skipped away, the ocean's sound enfolding her, the day itself seeming brighter and more perfect..._

Liara shook her head, tears trickling down her cheeks, and placed her head into her hands, swallowing. "I suppose I should thank your spirit, Shiala. If you had not pushed me so hard in training, perhaps I would have died facing my mother."

With a grunt she swung her legs over the edge of the cot, standing and stretching in a single, languid motion. Her field computer, brought aboard with the rest of her possessions, had completed the tasks she'd set up for it prior to her nap, and she sat down at the lab counter to review what the analysis of the Prothean stonework on Feros revealed.

As she initially suspected, the Feros city-scape was old, much older than the structure on Therum, and much less durable. The material was similar, but the Therum structure was a hardened military bunker, and the Feros buildings were the equivalent of civilian structures.

More interesting was the second-stage spectrometric analysis of the fragments of stone she'd found embedded in her armor from the Thorian's chamber. The room had the look of some kind of amphitheater, and at first she'd just assumed it was a Prothean chamber the Thorian had grown into. But the stone was not even remotely similar to the Prothean materials. Instead of a ceramic/metal hybrid that had the texture and look of stone, the chamber of the Thorian was actual stone, granite to be precise, infused with millions of nanomachine carved channels filled with titanium. The stone's age was staggering, over 120,000 years old, long before the Protheans had even become sentient.

The only thing that made sense was that the Thorian had been in that chamber all along, which presented the ugly question of who built it in the first place. Liara pulled up a number of VI-enhanced search windows, plugging in the values of the stone, and looked for ruins or matching descriptions of stonework. Several hits returned immediately, most of them clustered around the ruined garden world of Eingana.

Pulling up a search, she discovered the world was the site of a battle between two pre-Prothean races. Ruined starships covered the planet's service, thousands of them. Current archeological digs on the planet indicated the two races involved were the enigmatic Inusannon and a race identified by the Inusannon as the "Thoi'han". The two had battled over several worlds in the region, and eventually the Inusannon had triumphed.

Liara frowned, but the wreckage of the Thoi'han ships showed the same nanomachine carved reinforcement as the Thorian's chamber, and there wasn't much difference in the names. The Omega Nebula was on the far side of the galaxy from the Attican Beta, but in terms of jumps, it was only six jumps away.

Liara collated her findings of the Thorian's stonework and forwarded to the research team on Eingana, asking them if they thought the stonework she'd discovered matched the patterns they were seeing, and if there were any concepts of what the Thoi'han ships or the Thoi'han themselves had looked like. If the two were one and the same, then there might be useful archeological intelligence on the planet.

Liara grimaced. _Assuming I can convince Shepard to waste time on digging through ruins when Saren is flying about. Very unlikely. But I have to use what I can to be useful to the team. _ Her stomach made a noise of protest, and she realized she had not eaten for some time. With a determined expression, she sent her computer into another search on related items to the Thoi'han and exited the science lab.

Doctor Chakwas wasn't in the medical bay, a rare occurrence. The human mercenary Shields was laid out on the starboard side medical bed, sleeping, her face slightly contorted in an expression of pain. Liara spared the woman a look as she swept by, still upset that she had shown up out of nowhere to bring pain back into Shepard's life.

She had to admit that the woman was beautiful, in a cold, almost predatory fashion, but Liara's mind was still seeing her in the lens of Shepard's memories, face distorted with rage and pain as she lashed out with cutting words at Shepard's actions. The worst part was that Shields had done so without even making an attempt at understanding, and her contemptible abandonment of Shepard when she needed her friends the most had left lasting mental agony in the commander. Just thinking about it made Liara angry as she entered the mess decks, moving immediately to the small kitchen area built into the wall.

Kaidan was crouched there, his omni-tool illuminated, working on the control panel for the food system, his expression one of frustration. "Little...fucking...gaaah!" With a spray of sparks the entire panel went dark, Kaidan falling back on his rump, holding a blackened electrical conduit that emitted wafts of smoke. He looked up, his expression rueful. "Hello, Doctor T'Soni. Didn't see you, sorry about the language."

She gave a small smile in return. "Hello, Lieutenant Alenko. Um, is the galley functional?"

He sighed, and with a disgusted look at the panel, nodded. "Mostly. The stupid thing keeps shorting out the secondary power conduit to the sleeper pods, because whoever built the ship was too fixated on cutting edge technology and used some kind of turian transformer that doesn't want to play nice with human systems." He paused, and laughed. "And now I'm boring you with tech. Short answer, it works, but there's only going to be cold food until I get it fixed."

She nodded, turning to the food unit. "That is fine, actually. I do not think I want to experiment with cooked human food this morning after the incident with … bacon." She opened the refrigeration unit, pulling out a bowl of assorted fruits, and Kaidan laughed.

"Sorry, we didn't know human oils had that kind of effect on asari." He opened a tool kit next to his feet, rummaging through it for a new part, half watching her out of the corner of his eye. "So far we haven't had any really bad incidents...although sterilizing turian brandy for Tali to try out was an eye-opening experience, and Wrex has apparently decided human chicken is the best meat in the galaxy."

Liara laughed, pulling out a pair of the human fruit called pears, which tasted almost exactly like flame-fruit from Thessia. She put the rest of the bowl back, and pulled out a plastic container of milk, frowning to herself. "Yes, well...sometimes, food interactions can be very problematic, especially for turians and quarians. I once had to work with a turian research team and the food was designed for them, so all I had to eat were ration bars." She poured the milk into a bowl, and placed the container back in the refrigeration unit carefully. "They are not known for their appeal to the tongue, or stomach."

Turning to the cabinets next to the sink, she pulled down a silver cardboard box of what was labeled 'SAMC Nutritious Food Product: Cereal' and poured the flaky substance into the bowl of milk. She noted with amusement that some Alliance marine had scrawled 'three lies for the price of one' on the box before putting it back. Kaidan grunted at the unit he was working on again, which lit up as he pushed something into place, then flickered and died a moment later. "Have you eaten breakfast, Lieutenant?"

Kaidan snorted. "No, actually. I probably should, before I get a headache." Killing his omni-tool with a touch, he walked around the unit, opening the fridge and pulling out a small container of yogurt and an apple. He watched as the asari deftly used a paring knife to dice her pears up and dump them into her cereal, raising an eyebrow. "That's not a usual mix you see with cereal..."

Liara shrugged, and the two of them sat at the nearest table, the doctor sliding into her seat with ease, Kaidan having to shuffle a bit. "Yes, well, I am still learning a great deal about human culture. My mother had me learn something of your species early in my career, but after that I did not really run into any humans in my archeological work for many years."

Kaidan nodded, "I know you've done a lot of work in the field – a couple of times I've reported to Shepard in her cabin, and it seems like she always has something you've written up on her computer."

Liara gave him a surprised look, unaware of the smile on her face. "S-seriously? I mean, I did not know Sh– that she was... the type to read dry research papers." She stumbled slightly over the words, and Kaidan gave an internal wince.

_Hero worship or teenaged crush? Either way, better let her down easy. _

"She's not the kind of person you can put easily into a box, Doctor. She's had a pretty rough life, from what I've gathered, but she's pushed herself to the very best you can achieve in our military. Her N7 rating is the culmination of a special forces program that only one in ten thousand soldiers even start on, and her scores were so high that they may never be surpassed." He paused, taking a bite of his apple, and shrugged. "She does a lot of reading, I know that much. Tactical manuals, ships systems guides, that sort of thing. If she's reading your work, maybe she thinks it will help in tracking Saren."

Liara nodded, eating and thinking. "So you do not think her reading my work is out of any interest... i-in the Prothean extinction itself, that is? I know that few people think much of it..."

Kaidan pondered thoughtfully for a moment before answering, toying with the apple in his hand. "To be honest, I don't really know. Figuring Shepard out isn't something that most humans tend to want to try to do. Human culture is very diverse, but at the same time we define ourselves by our conformity to each other. People who stand outside of the accepted lines that we all are comfortable with end up being ostracized."

Liara nodded sadly. "It is much the same in asari culture. The prevalence of melding and joining among friends and acquaintances means that we tend to have brutally honest ideas about what others think of us, and association with like-minded individuals is the main reason asari are not more unified. There is no real infighting, but if you do not fit into the role you are assigned, then you have no place to really stand." She sighed, eating a bite of cereal, eyes distant and dull. "Refusing to take the guidance of older asari marks you as unsuitable for further attention, no matter how hard one tries."

Kaidan shook his head. "That's one difference, then. We don't often understand our eccentrics, but they are always recognized for their achievements, and they tend to push themselves further and harder than normal people. Some of our most brilliant minds, greatest heroes, and vilest monsters were probably just as misunderstood as Shepard is." He paused. "I think the difference is that humanity never quite moved out of the village mindset that we evolved into. We went from feudal holdings with swords and superstition to space travel in less than a thousand years, and we still deeply distrust each other, or anything different than us."

Liara nodded. "Yes, it is one reason the Citadel races are so worried about humanity. In thirty years, your economy now rivals that of the elcor and hanar, your military fought the turians to a standstill, and you have a Spectre of your own. Yet your kind does not even unify behind your own Systems Alliance, and half of your colonies call themselves independent." She ate another bite of food, a pensive look on her face. "Understanding your people is difficult, and I often worry that my isolation in the science lab is not endearing me to the crew. I have always had trouble fitting into my own culture, but I had hoped that I could prove more useful here and find a way to fit into yours. I have not so far."

Kaidan raised an eyebrow. "Really, doc? You dropped a geth war machine, after being half-dead from thirst and hunger. Shepard says you figured out how she could interpret that beacon vision, then you go into full-on combat with geth without batting an eyelash. You end up battling your mother after blocking a biotic throw that would have pulped the Commander, and kept Benezia from just overwhelming the team – fighting your own mother to do so!" He shook his head. "Sounds like you are doing your part."

Liara shrugged, although her expression was pleased for a brief moment. "You are very kind, but that is not what I mean. Detective Vakarian works on the Mako transport and the ship's weapons. Tali works with the engineers, and Wrex assists with maintaining the armory. Each of them was chosen, picked for their skills, and Shepard's full agreement. I am the one who just got foisted off on you, and I spend my day meaninglessly fiddling in the science lab over my researches, hoping for some way to assist in the search for Saren." She sighed, almost angrily, and ate another bite of food. "And now I sound like a petulant child."

Kaidan made a motion with his hand, and smiled crookedly. "I'm sure she's just trying to give you some space, Doctor. It's only been, what, a couple of weeks since you were trapped in that ruin? But if you want something to do, you should go ask her."

Liara frowned, and her gaze faltered, falling to her cereal. She picked at the rim of the cheap plastic bowl with her spoon. "I fear that she will say there is nothing for me to do, and to simply stay out of the way."

Kaidan spooned out some of his yogurt, having finished his apple. "I dunno. I learned the hard way that fear of what someone may say or do just makes you avoid ever finding out what would actually happen. We've all been in a place where we had to make a choice of speaking up or just letting things happen." He glanced away, tendons in his jaw tightening. "Sometimes, things may have turned out better if you do nothing. Sometimes, doing what you think is the right thing drives people away from you."

He gave a small smile, turning to look at her squarely. "But sometimes, ma'am, not doing anything leads to what you fear the most. Ask her. She's in her quarters now, it's morning, she has nothing going until we dock at the Citadel later on today. Worst case, she laughs you off and you have to find a way to do something she approves of. Best case, she gives you something to do and you can stop worrying about your place on the Normandy."

He ate more yogurt, and then scratched his chin. "But honestly? You're the Prothean expert, doc. If Saren's hunting things down from that era, none of us know what to even look for. The other aliens on this ship are doing work because they want to feel useful, but they really aren't helping us find Saren, or figure out what is happening. From what I heard from Cole, if you weren't there helping Shepard with the asari prisoner, she might have died, and we'd know nothing."

He stood, smiling. "If you'll excuse me, I really have to get the galley in working order. Wrex has decided he really likes human chicken, and it can't be safely eaten raw. And I don't want to be eaten at all..."

Liara laughed, and stood up herself, taking her bowl to the recycling unit. "Thank you for the talk, Lieutenant Alenko."

The human nodded, already back at work. "Yes, ma'am. Anytime." He paused, smiling. "We're all in this together."

O-OSaBC-O

Shepard cursed , paging back through the document on her screen, tapping ashes from her cigar as she did so. The documentation she'd received on the Spectre armor was something she didn't bother reviewing as thoroughly as she should have. She was disgusted to learn the armor had specialized combat functions she could have used to possibly stay in the fight longer.

_Only after having my ass handed to me by an overgrown chicken do I bother to read the damned manual_. _And of course it's dry as dust to read. _She glanced up at the vent Adams and Tali had installed in the corner of her stateroom. _At least I got Adams to put a vent in so I can smoke in peace and not lounge around like a delinquent while reading this stuff._

The armor was built with what the documentation called a physics exo-skeletal support unit. It was a series of mass-effect directed hydraulic struts, linking reinforced segments of the armor along the chest, thighs, upper arms, and back. When activated, it helped to cushion the body from severe biotic blows and blasts, stabilizing the body's skeletal position instead of having one's body flop around like a ragdoll. The mode did drain shield energy, but shields weren't a lick of good against a biotic tidal wave anyway, except to flare and shatter in the moment before impact.

Shepard inhaled from her cigar, savoring it's taste as she rubbed her nose, and then turned in the chair as her door chimed. "Come!" She arched one eyebrow as Liara stepped through, hands held together below her waist in an almost demure posture, eyes flicking around the small room. "What's up, Liara?"

The asari gave a nervous, faltering smile. "I came to talk to you about some work I have been doing, and to ask you a few questions. If you are not busy." Her voice trailed off hesitantly at the last word, and Shepard sat back in her chair thoughtfully.

_How long you gonna keep this silly game up, Sara? You find her attractive, but she looks at you like a hero. You're gonna have to figure out a way to be a leader the way Anderson said you would sooner or later, and the kid has to be hurting after facing her mother like that. _

She made a gesture with her hand to the other chair. "Have a seat , then. Let me put this out, I'm sure you don't need to smell my petty vices." She was halfway to the ashtray when Liara spoke.

"Actually...I … er, would you allow me to try one?"

Shepard paused, slowly rotating her head to look at the asari out of the corner of her eye before grinning. "Well, here I was thinking you doctors disapproved of smoking." She fished the packet of cigars Shields had loaned her last night out of her BDU pocket, shaking one out and extending the pack to the asari, who took it with a delicate blue hand. "Lighter's on the table there."

Liara picked it up and lit the cigar, closing her eyes as she did so, inhaling for a long moment before exhaling. Shepard waited for hacking and coughing but to her surprise the only thing the little asari did was smile and relax into the chair. "My mother smoked, on occasion." Her eyes were still shut, her voice soft. "Asari smoke herbal substances, mildly hallucinogenic, that help focus biotic power and calm the nerves. Very different from humans, but...the scent is almost the same." She took another puff. "She claimed it was my aithntar who gave her the habit."

Shepard frowned. "That word didn't translate, sorry."

Liara gave an almost embarrassed nod. "It is our word for the parent who is not the mother. Humans would say 'father', but that concept does not exactly translate to our culture. The aithntar means "life granter", just as our word-concept for mother means "life maker". We didn't have a word for father until we met other species and had children through them." She sighed. "Among asari, for an asari to have a child with another asari is a cultural taboo. I never met my aithntar, or even knew who she was, because Benezia was always very sad when the topic came up. The only thing I know is that she smoked."

Shepard nodded. "Did you smoke because of your mother?"

Liara shook her head, but a smile lit her face all the same. "No, not for many years. The last time I had Thessian ocean bloom leaf was over twenty years ago...the last time my mother and I were still on good speaking terms. She was studying your species, actually, and had her facial markings changed to mimic human 'eyebrows'." Liara's smile faded a little. "I had the same thing done, in a silly little gesture to show her I still heeded her council, even if I had chosen to go my own way. Later that day we sat on the beach and smoked, and she told me of the plans she had, and I told her about being accepted into the University of Serrice. It was one of the happiest, calmest days of my life."

Liara exhaled, finally opening her eyes. Her voice grew bitter. "After that, over the next few years, we grew...further apart, I never had the heart to change facial markings." She sighed, gazed fixed on the glowing end of the cigar. "And now, I suppose, I will never have the chance to rectify my relationship with her. Shiala made it clear my mother is lost."

Shepard flicked ash from her own and just watched, fascinated by how Liara's face had changed. "I'm so sorry this is happening to you, Liara. If I can find a way–"

Liara shook her head, bringing the cigarette up to those perfect lips with gracile motion, eyes flashing and fixing on Shepard's. "You cannot, Sara. I am capable of understanding that now. My mother said as much in that chamber." She gave a sad little smile, and then reached out to dump her ashes. "I despise feeling sorry for myself, but there are times I wonder what crime I must have committed in a past cycle of spirit to be trapped in my current existence."

Shepard found the thought oddly familiar. "I've wondered that about my own life, really. What the fuck did I do to deserve the shit I was put through?" She inhaled, shaking her head. "Never did come up with a good answer. I'm not much on feeling sorry for myself, either. But the way life seems to work, even if I do the best I can, I still get kicked in the head. Reaching out and trying to find reasons to make it better never seems to work very well."

Liara nodded, a somewhat nervous expression sliding over her face for a second. "Then you will understand that I am still unsure how I should go about expressing my feelings and reactions. I know that you did not ask for me to be on this vessel." She raised her slender hand as Shepard opened her mouth. "P-please...let me finish." After sharply exhaling, and taking a steadying drag on the cigar, she continued, although her hand was shaking slightly. "You are kind to protest, but the truth is that every member of this ship has proven themselves, and I have not. I have wanted to do something to do to help our mission, the way you have tasked Detective Vakarian, Tali'Zorah, and Urdnot Wrex."

Shepard gave a little shrug. "Honestly, the only reason I did that is because if they had nothing to do I was worried about the crew being resentful of their presence. At the time we launched, there was a lot of, um, concern about aliens on an Alliance vessel." She put her cigar out, slowly, so she wouldn't break the remainder of it. "They all had military training and could be useful, but I didn't want them just..sitting around. And it was a way to get them to mingle with the crew."

Liara nodded. "Whereas I am a shy archeological student with a smattering of training from a commando. But I can still contribute to the ships function. Anything is better than sitting in the lab all day, with almost nothing to study or to do." She put out her own cigar, frowning slightly, and then looked up in that open, helpless manner that made Shepard's spine feel like it was melting.

The human woman massaged her neck, and racked her brains. "Honestly, Liara, there's not much else to really do around the ship. That doesn't make you useless." She paused. "If you're good at organizing things, though, there is something I need done. It's a little tedious -"

Liara gave a small laugh at that. "There can be nothing more tedious than archeology at times, and I would be grateful for the distraction. Otherwise I have little to do but sit and worry about how all this will end. What do you need me to do?"

Shepard swung her small computer around, the haptic screen flickering in the dim light, and brought up a manifest of items. "I've never been happy with the standard Alliance military armor, and comparing my old N7 suit to the Spectre armor I had on just drove that home to me. If I'd still been wearing that crap, I'd have been a splatter on the wall of that ruin down there. I already placed some orders for new armor, specifically top of the line Predator armor, for my marine units, and better weapons. I've been polling armor manufacturers for better armor for the non-Alliance forces on board, too, though."

Shepard tapped a few keys, bringing up images of heavy, thick black armor with red trim. "I've narrowed it down to a few options, mostly Colossus Armor. I need people's armor measurements, and I need to make sure the armor is loaded with the kinds of modifications that will benefit each wearer. Tali'Zorah is going to be a problem, but Kassa Fabrication says it can manufacture a suit, and Tali can change into it in our airlock after a few decon cycles."

Shepard fixed her gaze on Liara. "I need you to get the measurements from everyone. That's Wrex, Tali, Garrus, and yourself, of course. I've got Kaidan and Ash's measurements already. There's a list on here of various modifications, I'd like you to pull together the most effective ones for each squad member." She paused. " It's usually pretty straightforward stuff – medical computers for front line fighters, technical geegaws for Tali, sniping enhancements for Garrus, etc. Use your best judgment."

Liara nodded uncertainly. "I will have to do some research... how much time do I have?"

Shepard smiled and glanced at her chrono. "About four hours, until we reach the Citadel. It shouldn't take that long." She smiled and leaned back in her chair. "I was going to do that myself, but I got sidetracked with this Spectre armor documentation, and now I remembered I need to prepare my written reports to the Council, Admiral Hackett, and God only knows who else, so I don't have the time."

Liara nodded a second time, more firmly. "Got it. I will be happy to help."

She rose, and Shepard frowned a little. "You said something about work you'd been doing...?"

Liara glanced at the floor. "Yes, it is probably not that important-"

Shepard snorted. "If this hunt for Saren has taught me anything, it's that the unimportant things _are_ important. You wouldn't have come here if it was useless, so spill." She gestured to the chair again, and Liara sat, hesitantly bringing up her omni-tool.

"I was examining the stone of the Feros cityscape, out of boredom, and comparing it to the ruins I was researching on Therum. The stonework is the same, although Feros was older and not as tough. I believe the discrepancy is due to Feros being comprised of civilian buildings, and Therum being a military bunker."

Shepard only nodded, and Liara hurried on, nervously. "I found several chips of the stonework in the Thorian's chamber imbedded in my armor as well. Since they were a different color, I scanned those as well, wondering if the Protheans were engaged in some kind of relationship with the Thorian. What I found is that the room the Thorian was in was far, far older than any of the buildings on Feros."

Shepard frowned. "Who the shit built it, then?"

Liara smiled, happy that Shepard's mind was as quick to pick up on that as her own was. "That was the first thing I asked. The stone has identifying features matching ruins found on a world near the Omega Nebula, a once-garden planet ruined by a war between two species over a hundred thousand years ago. One of these species was called the Thoi'han, and I believe that over the years the name became corrupted into Thorian."

Shepard frowned. ".. alright, but I'm not following how this is useful."

Liara licked her lips. "If the Thorian is related to these Thoi'han, and the stone work indicates that it is, there may be another one of these creatures on the planet they fought over. It is very possible that there may be clues there to what they knew about the Reapers, or that the Protheans may have investigated the ruins themselves. Most importantly, though, is that there may be intelligence about the extinction cycle itself on the planet. Why would two intelligent , space faring species be so desperate to have one garden world that they'd expend hundreds of ships attempting to hold onto it? It's possible that these races were not fighting one another, but a common foe instead..."

Shepard frowned. "Huh. Alright. We've got lots to do at the Citadel, but if we have time we'll check it out. For now, hop on that list." She paused. "And make sure to upgrade your weapons, maybe pick yourself up a submachine gun or light rifle. Your biotics are strong, way stronger than any I've ever seen, but you push yourself too hard, and one day it's going to catch up with you."

Liara stood and nodded. "I will keep that in mind, Shepard."

She smiled as she exited, and Shepard leaned back in the chair and sighed, rubbing her temples. "Well, at least I didn't insult her, make her cry, or hit on her. Good job, Shepard." With a snort, she turned back to studying the armor documentation, after checking that her written reports to the Council and Systems Alliance authorities had, indeed, been transmitted that morning.


	55. Chapter 48: Normandy, Moments III

_**A/N: **Well, my mother is recovering well from her surgery, work is calm for a few days before all hell breaks loose, and I'm working on a number of little projects. I have a series of small one-shots that describe some of the backgrounds of my OC's on the way, and my story about Tali'Zorah's father is coming along nicely, as is my completely OCD documentation on the AU Systems Alliance. Some of that will need to be retconned into this story – at some point, I need to re-work a few of the opening chapters, clean up misspellings, etc. _

_This chapter started off as three separate chapters, none of which I could finish (although Owelpost did an incredible job at giving me a changed focus and a better idea of how to fix everything up.) Combining the three flows more naturally, although this is the longest chapter so far. There is some Citadel fluff (a few of the side missions, expanding on the role of the Consort, meeting Emily Wong and al-Jilani as well as Diana Allers) , and then we have about four chapters that are almost totally AU instead of things like running errands for drug lords or crazed asari crime bosses. _

_Also, Conrad Verner. _

_Anyway, the Recommendation of the Day is _**Meanwhile** _by_ **Pirate Kit. **_This story is just goddamned adorable , and it features Grunt being even moar awesome than he already is. (By the way, plugging myself, if you haven't read my short __**Mother's Tears**__, you might like that as well. If you don't cry, your money back!) _

O-OSaBC-O

The Normandy arrived at the Citadel exactly on time, erupting from the mass relay in a storm of blue lightning and swirling, displaced nebula gasses. Immediately upon securing from jump shock, Joker frowned as his comm board lit up. "Commander, we've got incoming hails from the Council, docking control, the Alliance, Udina, and... um, three journalists."

Shepard was standing at the CIC command platform, having changed into her dress blues and the Spectre cloak, and shook her head in disgusted amusement. "Figures we'd have bullshit to greet us. Tempted to tell everyone to fuck off..."

Joker's voice held a teasing note. "Should I quote you on that Commander, or..."

Shepard cracked a thin smile. "No, Flight Lieutenant. Route comms to the communications room, and begin docking procedures." She reached for the 1MC mike near her station and tabbed it. "All hands, prepare for docking and stand-down. Department heads meet in the comms room in twenty minutes. We're coming in from a hell of a fight, and the Citadel fleet got torn up. No one on this ship, Alliance or not, is to say a single word of our mission to any journalist or civilians. Respond to all queries by forwarding said inquiry to Ambassador Udina." She gave a small smile. _Enjoy, you bureaucratic bastard. _

She paused, and then tapped the button again. "As stated, we'll be standing down for shore leave since repairs will take at least three days. Maintain your omni-tool connections at ALL times, and be ready to get back to the Normandy with thirty minutes warning."

She clicked off, paused, and headed back to the communications room, self-consciously adjusting her uniform and the Spectre half cape before squaring her posture as she entered the room. "Joker, give me the Council first."

"Yes, ma'am. You've got some time; Alliance Tower says it's thirty or so minutes to docking clearance."

A moment later, the comms screen blanked, displaying the Citadel Tower logo, then representations of the Council appeared. "Councilors, we've just reached the Citadel. As soon as we dock, I'm prepared to present my report of events on Feros in person if needed." She kept her face absolutely calm and still, and her posture deferential.

Sparatus was the first to speak, his avatar showing him dressed in some kind of overlapping layers of robes with armored shoulders and a thick collar, open at the neck. "Your punctuality in contacting us is appreciated, Commander, but we are very unhappy with the events of Feros as stated in your initial report. We're still very unclear about Saren's motivations in attacking this colony, something you promised to clear up and justify the massive loss of life experienced by the Fourth Fleet."

She squared her jaw, but nodded. "Yes, Councilor, sir. Saren was after a life form known as the Thorian. It was found below the Prothean ruins the colony at Feros was built on. Exogeni appears to have been aware of it, and was in the process of determining if it was a fully sentient creature or something else. This Thorian had absorbed memories of Protheans that perished on Feros, and as a result allowed Saren to have a much clearer idea of the information from the Beacon."

Valern unfolded his arms, his black robes undecorated except for his STG bracers, and his hood down for once. Shepard noted one of his horns was bent and deformed, as if broken. "Fascinating concept, but I am disturbed the Systems Alliance didn't notify us of the creature's existence at once."

Shepard shrugged. "I was pretty angry too, but the people who made such calls were either killed in the geth attack or during the attack on the Exogeni HQ." She paused, closing her eyes. She knew she should tell the truth; admit to the Systems Alliance's complicity in the deaths of the colonists, but Shields' words about distractions from the hunt for Saren rang in her mind.

She opened her eyes again and sighed. "I didn't find any evidence of the Systems Alliance having knowledge of what Exogeni was up to. The SA used the planet to offload penal colonists since it was isolated and not a danger to other worlds, and I doubt they would have left it at that if they had such a resource at hand. Further investigation is complicated by the destruction of the Thorian and the colony ."

Tevos sighed. "So we lost all those ships for nothing? Saren escaped with critical knowledge, and we don't know what the next step is?"

Shepard smiled, shaking her head. "Not at all, councilor. Saren used one of Benezia's commandos , Shiala, to communicate with the Thorian and obtain the information, a set of Prothean memories, cultural viewpoints and … well, there is not a good way to explain it. Shiala called it the Cipher. We did badly wound Saren – I forwarded the video of our remaining combat logs. But we were also able to rescue and extract Shiala from the area during our own escape."

Shepard tapped her omni-tool, forwarding the relevant information. "The results of our interrogation are displayed here. Shiala maintained that Saren's ship was not geth, but something else, and that it had functions that allowed him to brainwash and control the people following him. This may or may not also be how he controls the geth; we have fragmentary evidence that the geth have some kind of religious reason for their cooperation with Saren."

There was a long pause as the councilors consulted the new data. Sparatus' mandible flickered; the other two appeared absorbed in the information.

Valern was, of course, the first to finish reading, his agile mind already forming connections. "Troubling inferences from this. Total mind control allows him to co-opt anyone, with no outward signs. Explains penetration of C-SEC, network of spies." He exhaled, and with an effort forced himself back to more normal speech patterns. "The ramifications of this mean that we could have greater problems in rooting him out than we thought..."

Sparatus grunted, paging through something on his console. "The report mentions that you shared this Cipher with the asari. What have you learned?"

Shepard took a deep breath, and folded her hands behind her back. "The Beacons were a summons from the Protheans sometime after their empire was destroyed by a race using the same sort of ship Saren now has. The Protheans called them Reapers. The summons were for all surviving Protheans to fall back to a planet known as Ilos which, Dr. T'Soni informs me, was long believed to be mythical. The message is not completed – probably due to the Beacon exploding – but it mentions the Conduit again, as well as something about a super weapon." She frowned. "It's my belief that Saren is after this world, to take the Prothean technology and perhaps this super-weapon as well."

Tevos sighed. "Reading your report, while I'm glad to see that you and your team all survived a harrowing experience on Feros, I am sorry to hear that Shiala M'than has died. She was one of the most talented and powerful commandos in the entirety of the Asari Republics. I can only hope the information she has passed along is of real use to us. Ilos, as you said, has long been held to be mythical. Do you have any current leads on where it may be?"

Shepard sighed. "Dr. T'Soni has some partial leads we do need to research, but that shouldn't take more than a few days travel and some on-the-ground research. I'm personally more concerned about what you think my next steps should be. I have some ideas, developed while I was recovering from my wounds on Feros."

Sparatus sighed and finished reading. "We've reviewed what little suit imagery there was from your foray onto Feros, Commander. It appears that you were able to best Saren rather convincingly, and that you were only thwarted by some kind of biotic field protection at the end. The video shows Saren shot in the head and being dragged away." The turian councilor gave a shake of his head, one talon thoughtfully tapping his cheek plate. "It's possible he didn't survive his wounds."

Valern gave a spastic shrug. "Can we afford to take that chance? The black ship he has already acquired is bad enough, let alone an army of geth. If he has any chance at getting his hands on this super-weapon Shepard speaks of, or any other Prothean technology ... he is fully capable of perhaps uniting large swathes of the Terminus systems or the Traverse against us."

Shepard folded her arms, letting her weight fall back onto one hip. "I think in order to stop him we have to flush him out, Councilors. Assuming he's still alive. If I can live through three shots from a Sunfire, he might have survived as well." Shepard opened one hand in a gesture, smirking. "If you noticed in the report, the Exogeni executive that we rescued indicated that Exogeni had a relationship with Cerberus. It's probable that Cerberus tipped Saren to the existence of the fact Exogeni had something he might want."

Both Sparatus and Valern nodded, but Tevos frowned. "I still do not understand why a human terrorist organization that spouts lines of human supremacy would ally with a turian, Commander. I know we heard him refer to Cerberus in the recording, but it seems a poor fit."

Shepard smiled thinly. "I agree entirely, Councilor, which is why I want to investigate. It plays into my plan to stop this fucker. I'm tired of reacting to his goddamned atrocities, I want to flush him out." She tapped her omni-tool, pulling up a map of the galaxy. "We know that Saren has three allies in whatever he's doing. The first would be the various krogan mercenaries and thugs he's been employing, which we've run into repeatedly. According to Wrex, most of the krogan working for Saren are either Blood Pack mercenaries or outcasts. There has to be a way he's recruiting them, and we need to stop it."

A single star system flashed red on the map. "Therefore, a trip to Tuchanka is needed. We can investigate the issue and, if we find leads, it may give us clues to Saren's whereabouts or other bases. Second, we know there are geth involved. Yet the Long Patrol at the Perseus Rim hasn't reported any large scale breakouts or mass-relay traffic. Either the geth have reactivated a relay inside the Veil that leads outside to a system we don't monitor, or the geth have built a base outside the Veil entirely and are operating from there."

Another tap of the omni-tool and various systems flared yellow and red. "By tracking geth sightings, invasions, clashes and the like, and making some assumptions about fuel ranges, we have concluded that the geth are operating somewhere around the Hourglass Nebula, three jumps out from the Veil. My geth expert, Tali'Zorah, says the geth will usually stay within a certain range of a central station so they can coordinate and rely on one another for backup. I propose that, with Alliance assistance, we find and destroy this base – or bases, if need be – to cripple them ."

Sparatus frowned. "Going after the krogan on Tuchanka is one thing. How can we be sure that giant black dreadnaught won't show up again and decimate more ships?"

Shepard nodded. "First, this is why I said the Alliance should undertake this mission. I'm very grateful that the Council responded to my call for aid, and I assure you that if I'd known it would have ended like that I'd have rather died than have all those brave people die in my place. However, I feel that massing large fleets is too risky, in any case. Alliance ships have experience with heavy scouting, using the old Leningrad scout frigates. As new Normandy-model stealth frigates start coming online, we can widen our ability to search. Small Alliance battle groups, maybe a half dozen frigates, and a light cruiser-carrier, can harry the geth. Once we identify their operating systems, and verify their planets are not garden worlds, the Alliance Heavy Fleet of dreadnaughts can do a coordinated jump. They jump in, fire two full salvos of mass cannon fire at the planet, and jump out."

Valern winced, his elongated features making the expression almost comical. "There would be extensive damage from such strikes, yes. I assume Alliance Special Forces would then follow up?"

Shepard nodded. "Strike frigates with teams of Alliance Raptor Jump Marines and NCT troopers could go in and clean up whatever was left. If Saren tried to respond, we could keep that damned black ship jumping all over the place. It's got to refuel and discharge drive mass sometime, right? That gives us a one to two hour window to strike any geth fleets we've identified, using similar tactics."

Sparatus gave what almost looked like an approving nod. "A clever strategy, human. I wasn't aware you were trained so heavily in space tactics."

Shepard steeled her expression, saying nothing, and after a moment Tevos spoke. "You said Saren had three allies in this fight. You have mentioned the krogan and the geth. Who is the third?"

Shepard's expression twisted and she glanced up to the asari councilor with a look so malicious that Tevos took a half step back. "Cerberus, councilor. The only thing in my book worse than a criminal is a traitor. Cerberus is a human organization, and it might have spies or collaborators in the Systems Alliance, so going after them with SA assets is a pretty poor idea...but I bet it's a lot harder for Cerberus to subvert turian, asari, or salarian military forces. I'd like permission to call on turian Blackwatch or salarian STG units for backup once I identify their hideouts and bases. Incapacitating Cerberus will not only destroy Saren's intelligence support, but will allow the Shadow Broker to help us find him much more easily."

The three councilors traded glances, and then Tevos nodded. "Your plan is acceptable, Commander. And while we have no additional leads on Saren, we do have a lead for your review on Cerberus. A Systems Alliance rear admiral has been petitioning us for Spectre investigation into a curious incident involving some of his soldiers out near the Traverse. His unit was involved in anti-pirate operations, only the pirates were humans rather than batarians. He lost contact with his unit six days ago, but the location is deep in the Traverse and we are unsure it would be prudent to send ships."

Shepard nodded slowly. "How is this connected to Cerberus?"

Valern spoke. "The admiral had been going through some unusual channels to follow up on his unit, and told us the Shadow Broker sold him information about the pirates. The Broker claims the pirates are actually a Cerberus unit, and the slaves they take are used in experiments. The Council cannot authorize direct intervention in the Traverse, of course, but whatever actions you take as a Spectre are yours to decide." The salarian sniffed, a wry smile occluding his normally expressionless face. "The fact that you have a stealth frigate does not hurt either."

Shepard came to attention. "If you have nothing else, then, I'll proceed to dock and resupply my ship, conduct what business I have on the Citadel, and meet with Admiral...?"

Sparatus tapped his panel. "Rear Admiral Kahoku attached to your Fifth Fleet. Seeing as we've covered everything, there is no need for a formal, in person meeting with news personnel taking everything out of context, Shepard. We expect regular reports on your progress as it continues."

Shepard nodded. "Yes, sir."

The signal went dead, without them even saying goodbye, and Shepard relaxed with a long-suffering sigh. "Egomaniacal jackasses...least they didn't 'object' to anything." She ran her hands through her hair, and slapped the comm. "Joker, dock progress?"

The pilot's voice was wry. "A big HE3 tanker just lost lateral thrusters and almost crashed into a turian dreadnaught. Twenty more minutes, Commander, assuming we don't get vaporized by drunk drivers."

Shepard snorted and tapped off, checking her chronometer on her omni-tool. Even as she did so, the door to the comm room slid open, and Doctor Chakwas walked in, followed by the new navigator, Friggs. Shepard gestured to the seats. "Take a seat, the rest will be here shortly." She pulled up the ordering manifests that had been put together and reviewed everything that they would need to requisition or expense out, and as she did so, the rest of the staff filed in.

Shepard stepped to the front of the room and stood straight. "We're about to dock at the Citadel. Unlike the last time, we have quite a bit of resupply, requisition and work to get done while we're here. I want to make sure every one of my officers is on board with my plans before we proceed, and get any feedback you have."

Shepard began to pace, her usual animalistic stride shortened in the small space. "We'll start from the bottom and work our way up. Lieutenant Alenko, I've put in orders for Predator battle armor and Crossfire rifles for the entire marine detail. You, Chief Williams, and Master Chief Cole will not use this gear. You will instead be getting Colossus Armor. Liara is in the process of ordering the armor right now. When it gets here I want all the suits checked, proof tested, and then repainted Alliance spec. If you have weapons authorizations you'd like to make for individual marines for side arms, I'd like to hear them. Otherwise, I need your report."

The next 20 minutes passed rapidly, as each one of her officers gave her a concise rundown on the status of the ship. Alenko had promotions he wanted made, and worried that the squads they had were simply not well trained enough for heavy combat. Friggs, the new navigator, gave a somewhat hesitant report of upgrades she'd designed for the ops plot the next time Joker had to push the engines as hard as he had in Feros. Chakwas wanted to upgrade the medical bay, since the injuries the squad had been subjected to far outstripped it's designed specifications for fixing the occasional gunshot or broken bone.

Shepard carefully listened, making a few changes to the plans Pressly and Adams had for repairs and replacements, and charged Friggs with working with Garrus to restock the ship's missile and torpedo supply. After a quick reminder to make sure they kept their staff ready to leave on 30 minutes' notice, she dismissed them to prep for docking.

Shepard sat in the comm room alone, gathering her thoughts, and wondering what she'd do during the down time that the Normandy would be laid up for. Liara's jaunt to Eingana probably wouldn't take that long, and might actually turn out to be useful, at least as a field test for the new armor Liara was ordering.

_I wonder how she's doing with that. _

O-OSaBC-O

Liara spent almost forty minutes in the science lab, looking up everything there was to know about Colossus Armor, armor measurements, and armor mods. The details were unfamiliar but fascinating at the same time, with enthusiast extranet sites and 3-D haptic image displays easily available.

The Colossus Armor was probably the single most expensive type of full military battle armor in the galaxy after the hand-made custom-fitted Spectre armor. Kassa Fabrication was a human company that had exclusive contracts with the Systems Alliance as well as most of the large human nations still on Earth, and it had spared no expense in making itself the dominant and premier armor maker in the galaxy in only 15 years.

The armor was a triple-lined miracle of engineering. The inner layer was of nano-infused ballistic cloth, with tiny capillary tubes filled with medigel forming the side of the material closest to the wearer's body. Over that was a series of quarter-inch shock-resistant ceramic plates, layered in shock absorbing gel and sandwiched between two thin layers of artificial spider silk. The outer sections were thick, heavy slabs of super-compressed, plasma forged titanium, honeycombed with carbon nanotubes that shed heat and broke up biotic pressure differentials. The entire suit was mounted on an integral powered assist exoskeleton, and contained full DETA decon filters, a 9 hour purified air supply, and built in water and food storage in an armored backpack. The armored gauntlets and wrist assemblies were built with gyroscopic recoil dampeners and the helmet had built in UV LADAR, infrared, and sonic mapping for smoke or night-time operations.

Liara was startled by Shepard's announcement, and her call for department heads to meet her in the comm room. She waited to see if Shepard would ask for the aliens to join as well, but this time she did not, and Liara returned to her work. She paged through the long list of possible modifications, and then sighed. She would need someone to help her on this, but that would defeat the purpose of her doing the work herself. After all, everyone on board had something to do; even Master Chief Cole was assigned mechanical upkeep of the sleeper pods, given his previous profession before the Systems Alliance. And with everyone tied up in a meeting, even if one of them had the time to assist her, it wouldn't be soon.

_In fact, the only other person on board without something to do is … Shields. Goddess help me._

Liara grimaced, but there wasn't much choice. The woman was clearly qualified and had probably done things of this nature before. Liara transferred everything to her omni-tool and, with a steadying inhale, exited the science lab.

The lab was quiet and mostly empty, Chakwas probably dealing with preparing for the ship's arrival at the Citadel. Shields was awake, and Liara was both relieved and worried – relieved she was there, in the relative privacy of the medical bay; worried that Shields would not cooperate with her.

Shields was sitting up in the medical bed, hair having fallen across her face, tinkering with an open panel on her cybernetic arm, brows furrowed in concentration. Liara stopped, unsure of how to proceed, and after a moment Shields glanced up, dark gray eyes fixing on Liara. "Help you with something, Blue?"

Liara did not care for her tone, but she made an effort to put a pleasant expression on her face. "Actually, yes, Ms. Shields, if you have the time. Commander Shepard has tasked me with putting together a manifest of updated equipment for the ground team. Specifically, she wants me to pick the sizes and modifications for sets of Colossus Armor for the non-humans on board."

Shields grunted. "Colossus is pricy shit. Then again, She-bitch was always complaining about the crap armor the SA issued us." She gave a mocking grin as Liara winced at the nickname. "Figured you'd be used to all the foul language by now, doc."

Liara steadied her slightly shaken nerve and forced herself to smile, albeit weakly. "I am still adjusting to the way humans address each other. It is nothing, really. You were speaking of armor...why, exactly, is the Colossus so much better than the usual armor you wear?"

Shields shook her head, as if tired. "It's like comparing a batarian grav lift to a Serrice aircar. Both do the job, but one does it so much better. Onyx armor, the Systems Alliance standard, is good for stopping shitty BSA submachine guns and 20 year old smuggled crap in the Terminus, but you go up against real military weapons, or a rocket, or biotic, and you end up pasted." She finished her work on her arm, and snapped the small cover closed with a careful motion, flexing the fingers of her hand as she turned it over. "Colossus can bounce most small arms fire, auto-seals breaches, and all kinds of crazy shit. Doesn't explain why you need to talk to _me_ about it."

Liara raised her chin. "I am not familiar with many aspects of this sort of thing. I have been fitted for my own armor, of course, but that was long ago. And I just borrowed a set of standard battle armor from the Normandy's armory for our assault on Feros., Armor that did not fit very well. I was hoping you would be able to provide assistance, or at least guidance on the best choices to make and the fitting process."

Shields fixed her with a long stare. The woman's face was almost lifeless, set in empty lines with no real expression visible, but her eyes were more alive, searching for something in Liara's face. With a groan, Shields sat up more fully. "That's not what I meant. Why ask me, specifically? Why not ask the ships BDO, or one of the squad chiefs?"

Liara shrugged. "Several reasons. Lieutenant Alenko is tasked with prepping the ship for arrival at the Citadel, and I am sure Master Chief Cole and Chief Williams are as well. Additionally, Chief Williams does not seem to care for my presence. And if Shepard had wanted this done by them, she would have given it to them. Finally, you … are experienced. You fought alongside Shepard and know best what kinds of equipment would complement her skills."

Shields sighed. "Alright. That certainly sounds logical, Blue. But I'd like to know something if I help you with this. On Feros, you came at me like I was untrustworthy, and you've been eying me like you expect me to blow your head off. The fuck is up with that? We ain't met." Shields slid forward on the bed until she was sitting on the edge. "I get worried when people start measuring me for a coffin and we haven't met."

Liara blinked, and then gave a small sigh. "It – t-that is, I do not have anything against you. At least, related to me." She paused. "The commander encountered a Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime. After she rescued me, we discussed it, and she said she could not understand what she was seeing."

Liara transferred her data to the nearest medical computer, moving it closer so Shields could see it. "I joined my mind with hers to impart my knowledge of the Protheans to her... but as a result, we shared some memories."

Shields had been calm until the last part of Liara's statement, and then she turned to the asari with a furious expression on her face. "So you fucked her and you're angry that I'm here? She feeds me bullshit about not being into anyone while she's having her roll in the hay with aliens? That bit-"

Liara flushed a deep shade of blue, stammering. "N-no! Goddess, no. It was n-not … sexual. It was... it is a method mothers use to teach their c-children, or old friends use to share memories – not a Melding! Shepard doesn't … think of me that way." The last came out almost brokenly, and the human woman's anger melted from her face in a second.

Shields sat there, mind racing, not saying anything, her hands shaking. She heard the pain in the asari's voice, the uncertainty and, more importantly, the embarrassment. Shields let the tension and anger slowly drain out of her, organizing her thoughts, hands clenched. _Some kinda weird Vulcan mind-meld bullshiat, instead of freaky mind sex. Shared memories. No wonder she doesn't like me, she must have seen Torfan then, or what happened after. _She pursed her lips and gave a casual shrug. "Join the club, Blue. She .. explained that she didn't much see anyone that way, not seriously. Still hurts."

Liara shook her head. "I .. do not think she understands everything she feels. I did not intend to witness any of her memories, but I saw not only her separation from your group, but her early childhood." The asari's voice hardened, thickening with hatred and disgust. "The vile things that were done to her have damaged her forever, I fear. She flees from closeness, even though hurts her even more. She is terrified of driving those she cares about away, and can't .. find a way to help them understand how she feels. She feels alone."

Shields exhaled. "Yeah. Her old crew, me, the others, we fought to try to reach her. To make her see."

Liara eyes snapped up to meet Shields', icy blue, angry, confused. "You fought to try to make her want you, to try to claim her like some kind of trophy, to justify your own losses. She didn't even understand, and you left her behind when she needed you the most."

Shields slid off the bed, balling a fist. "She abandoned us in the muck on Torfan. She left _us _for the first bitch that smiled, pretended she was normal, and spread her legs. Don't fucking lecture me on what I did or didn't do."

Liara shook her head, sadly. "I am not lecturing you. I am just saying what I saw, and how she saw it. You did not offer her a way out she could have taken, or understood. You offered her nothing but help she could not see or accept. In leaving you caused her more pain, made her question her own past even more, left her with serious doubts about her ability to _be_ a _real_ person." The asari's eyes rimmed with tears, and she looked away. "She hated herself and you drove it home that she had no one who believed in her. To wait until then to force the issue that you loved her? She never recovered!"

Shields wanted to scream out a denial, to yell at the alien bitch, to howl out the reality, but all she could think of for a moment was the shattered memory of walking away from Shepard outside that shitty bar, Shepard kneeling in the dirty street, all alone. She exhaled, clenching her fist tighter, servos in her shoulder whining with the strain. She spoke, her voice icy and cold.

"Don't get too high and mighty judging me, Blue. The fact that you mind-raped her doesn't make you her friend, it makes you a freaky, alien thing."

Liara's eyes flashed angrily, but she said nothing. _She is trying to bait me into anger. Her ignorance of what happened is just her denying the truth of what she did. _Liara forced herself back to calm. "Your view of what I shared with Shepard is completely inaccurate. Refusing to listen to the truth does not make you any less complicit in how your leaving affected her."

Shields leaned back, folding her arms. "I don't have to _listen to a goddamned _thing from you, the child of some traitor bitch telling me what a bad person I am for falling in love, especially from someone who doesn't even know the whole story."

Liara's mouth opened, but Shields just sneered at her. "You're a goddamned kid. How can you possibly fucking understand the shit we all went through for her sake? About Dirth, killing our own men to get the job done? Did she ever tell you about the shit at Torfan, the shit we soiled our very souls with? The monsters we all became, shooting kids in the head like goddamned Sao Paulo death-squads?"

Liara closed her eyes, remembering. "I saw. The batarian children, terrified, with the b-bombs..."

Shields sat up, eyes narrowed in old anger. "Shepard doesn't need _help_. Shepard doesn't need fucking _understanding._ I don't know _what_ she needs. Neither does she, and neither do _you_. I spent eight goddamned years of my life carrying that cross on my shoulders, and all I got for it was abandonment. We walked out on her because we couldn't take any fucking more. Does it make it right? No. Should we have done something else? How the fuck could we? We were just as fucked up as she was."

Shields pointed to an angry red scar bisecting her throat. "I lost my parents at eleven, got mixed up in gangs, and framed for a drug bust gone bad by crooked cops. Baby Blue got affected by an eezo dusting and ended up unable to control his anger, strangled his own damned wife. Dunn went to the Penal Legions because he grew up in one of the poorest parts of Earth and the only way to survive was the damned gangs, and the police were just executing anyone they could to keep the crime from affecting the ever-so-fucking precious rich in the arcologies."

Shields looked away, jaw pulsing. "So no, Blue. We _didn't_ have any better fucking idea what to do than she did. She kept us alive when we were frightened and crying. She scared the fuck out of the snipers they threatened to kill you with if you stepped out of line. She laughed in the face of the penal legion commissars who'd break your leg for not keeping up in the exercise runs. She beat the crap out of anybody messing with us, taught us how to fight, shoot, and survive. She was the only reason any of us got out alive. Walking away from her was all I had fucking left, all any of us had left, because it hurt too much to stay and watch and not even be sure she cared, or if she was just using you because you were _efficient_."

Liara shouted. "No! She … she did not look at you that way! I saw-"

Shields laughed so bitterly Liara flinched. "None of us were asari. We didn't have the ability to read her goddamned mind. So, yeah. Blame me. Look at me like I'm some kinda bitch. Tell me it's my fucking fault she's a goddamned basket case who got most of her own fucking unit killed not once, but over and over, to support a government that sets its own soldiers up to fucking die for political points." Shields folded her arms, eyes narrowed to dagger-throwing slits of pure hate. "But don't ever fucking tell me I should have known better. I loved her. Fuck that, I love her now, even though it's killing me. I lived through the shit you so casually pick up from her brain."

Shields shook her head. "If you think you can do any goddamned better, you'd be with her right now, and she'd be teaching you how to work an armor requisitions system. If you knew her so well, you'd understand that she tests everyone, evaluates them, finds if they are useful... or expendable. Maybe once you fall on the wrong side of that goddamned line, you'll realize just how little you understand the Butcher."

With a deliberately slow movement, she got back in her bed. "Damn, I don't feel so hot, Blue. I know you said you came for help, and I'd love to help ya, but … bed rest, doctor's orders, that sort of thing. Good luck figuring it all out."

Shields closed her eyes and turned on her side, and Liara slumped, looking down. For a long second she said nothing, and then gave a sigh. "You are right, Ms. Shields. I am. . not the person to be castigating anyone for anything. Seeing the events in her mind, and then seeing you a few hours later, was .. upsetting. And I do not know Shepard the way you do, or the whole story. I know flashes and bits and emotions and feelings. As you said, I did not live it the way you did."

She firmed her jaw. "But I know the pain in Shepard's mind and heart. I have heard her talk about how alone and unhappy she is, and how she often wishes she could just die, rather than continue to live as a misunderstood monster. That is how she sees herself. And part of why she sees herself that way was because of the way _you_ left her. Maybe I was naive in believing my insight might allow me make a connection with her, to help her. Maybe I was wrong in thinking that you had a choice in leaving "

Liara turned away. "But at least my outrage is because of what she has gone through and endured, not some selfish and petulant rage about what I cannot have. I will find some way to get this task done, while you fixate on how badly you have been treated. My apologies for disturbing you, Ms. Shields." Angrily, stiffly, Liara walked to the door, cursing herself for her inability to rein in her own feelings and emotions. She was about to hit the med-bay door control when Shields suddenly laughed.

"And that's why you're angry, Blue? Because I wasn't good enough to keep her shit together? Because I want one thing in my life, and I can't have it?" The woman laughed again, long and loud, an almost pained edge to the sound, and Liara came to a confused stop, turning around. Shields was still lying on the bed, shoulders shaking. "God, that's just fucking .. .perfect."

Liara stood there, confused, and Shields rolled onto her back, wiping her eyes with her hand. "I had to fucking ask, didn't I? Ask why you were so angry. I was thinking you were her new piece or something. But you're just as star-struck as everyone else who comes in contact with her. Fall in love with her, hate her, or both. I felt the same damned way a long time ago." Shields' voice was softer, almost a whisper.

Liara took a step closer. "I . . do not understand. New piece?"

Shields's face twisted into a sardonic smile. "Shepard had a few, ha, incidents. She got drunk and messed up, on leave away from us. Casual sex, I guess you'd call it. Reclaiming your body or some shit. Three, maybe four times in eight years? I didn't really give a shit, I wanted her to love me, not just to sleep with me. Not that I'd have said no to that, but .. I didn't want to be used. None of us did." Her voice hardened as she saw the asari was still confused. "I thought she was in a sexual relationship with you, despite your protests. That you were … threatened by my presence. Or felt that way for her."

Liara shook her head, cheeks flushing."N-no. I mean, she saved my life, when I thought I had been abandoned. She listened to me and risked her own life to have me assist her, and brought me back from the very shores of death when my own stupidity and inexperience nearly killed us both. She faced down the rulers of the galaxy to keep me from arrest and imprisonment when she barely knew me, and she was upset because she could see no way to avoid from having to kill my mother." Liara's voice broke a little. "I do not know what I should feel for her, or about her, and I have no one to help me understand. I am .. a part of me finds her fascinating, a part wants to hold her and make the pain stop, and a part of me is .. repulsed and confused by some of the things she has done in her past."

Liara's thoughts treacherously strayed back to Shepard's comment in her hospital room, and the flush deepened, Liara biting her lip. Shields looked at her a long moment, before grunting and sitting up.

"Saved your life, huh?" For some reason the woman seemed calmer, more in control, the anger of just a few moments ago suddenly gone. "Tell me."

Liara haltingly described her ordeal with the Prothean security station, Shepard's whirlwind assault on the geth, rescuing her, and facing down the geth armature. Downplaying her own role, she ended by describing Shepard's defense of her to the Council, and Shields only nodded.

"Sara to a tee. For all her self-hating bullshit about being a monster, God fucking help you if you pick on the weak around her." Shield's eyes closed, a faint smile tracing across her lips. "Sounds like you have a case of hero-worship mixed with a good old fashioned crush. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but .. take it from me, it won't go anywhere."

Liara looked away. "I-I know. She is too complicated for me to understand, I fear. Like her, I never seem to know what to say, or how to act. Even among my own kind, much less humans. I do not know how to, as you put it, 'give her whatever she needs.'" Liara exhaled, and suddenly the reality of what she was saying, and hearing , hit her – of what it would be like to spend eight years with someone you wished cared for you, wished loved you, wished was interested in you, only to realize it would never happen.

Suddenly she felt horrible, like a child kicking a helpless, crippled animal, and tears flooded her eyes. "B-but I can understand when I am being a childish fool, and I had no right to say what I did. It must be hard for you to be here, losing your entire career in a few days of horror... and now she is here again and nothing has changed for you. To have someone like me chastise you –" "

Shields held up a hand, a motion eerily like the one Shepard often used, and the gray eyes came up to meet hers. Hard, like the granite they were the color of. Unyielding, like steel. Yet somehow understanding as well. "One of the squad wrote a poem about her, once." Shields voice took on a sing-song note, as she recited something from memory.

"She is the terror of a thousand victims, given rage and furious form. She is the vengeance of the unlamented slave, the wrath of those left to die. She is the beauty of a new morning sunrise, the anger of the unbridled storm. She is the meaningless pain of the martyr, a last rattling sigh." Shields' lips quirked. "You can fight like a krogan, and run like a leopard, but you'll never be better than Sara Ying Shepard."

Something about the ridiculous line caught at Liara, and she felt herself smile as well. Shields gave a long, almost pained sigh, and then sat up fully. "I can't let her go, and you're caught up in her wake as well. I'm a big girl, though. As long as I can keep telling myself that she hasn't chosen anyone...I can hardly get angry at you for feeling the same damned way I do." Shields shook her head, then looked up, face framed by her long, dark hair, eyes solemn.

Liara nodded, not even fully understanding what she had said that had disarmed the woman's anger, but grateful nonetheless. "I am sorry for my words, Ms. Shields. And .. for what it is worth, I do not think she did not love you.. And I think you matter to her a great deal, even now."

Shields' somber expression flickered, a hint of life coming into the angles of her face, a faint light into her eyes. "I know. She told me that herself. But it's nice to know she meant it." Shields ran her hands through her hair and jerked a thumb to the computer Liara had dumped the armor specs into earlier. "Well, shit, get over here. Goddamned armor isn't going to sort itself."

With a faint smile, Liara complied.


	56. Chapter 49: Dragunov, Ultimatum

_A/N : I've got two chapters cooking with the beta reader, but we're both kind of overwhelemed by work so the next one may be a few days. The one after that will almost certainly be this weekend or later. _

_There's not a lot of exploration of exactly why the SA does some pretty stupid things throughout the series. I think there needs to be a clarification of why the Alliance went all nutso on Shepard after ME1 and her death. In my AU, the SA has already shown to be a much darker entity than in canon : penal legions with snipers, experiments on unwilling prisoners. You'll note in the chapter below Shepard accuses SA Command of some pretty horrible things and they don't even try to deny it.  
_

_Please remember one of the prime rules of the Premiseverse : there are no good guys :D  
_

O-OSaBC-O

The announcement that the crew was on shore leave was well received, and yet tempered by the number of Alliance officials waiting at the end of the Normandy's docking pier. They clustered in a tight knot, blue uniforms glimmering here and there with gold braid and bar, a tiny storm cloud at the end of the long silver span that connected the ship to the rest of the Citadel.

The message she'd received in her comm system from the Alliance Admiralty Board had been so terse as to approach  unintelligibility. "_Stand by for Admiralty presence __ re__actions._" Code for: standby to standby, sir yes sir. The second message that hit her inbox minutes later was sent privately from Rear Admiral Mikhailovich. "_Witch hunt coming. Stand your ground, Anderson and I are on the way_."

Shepard didn't know what that really meant, wasn't sure what the hell would bring the Fleet Master all the way out to the Citadel to see her personally, and was worried stiff about it. Was it due to her nearly dying? Was it the fact she didn't catch Saren when she had him cold? She'd been stressed ever since the message hit, and focusing on just docking the ship and getting the crew off was occupying her thoughts, keeping her nerves even.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, a sardonic smile worming its way across her dark features. _Yeah, right, nerves even. _ She stood in the cockpit, watching as her crew filed out for leave, some of them in civilian clothes, others still in fatigues, all with the same expression – part haggard, part terrified , part proud. She waited until the last had gone past her before trading significant glances with her XO. "You have the shopping list?"

Pressly nodded, having changed into a one-piece civilian outfit, muted gray with a mantle of dark black, emphasizing his barrel chest and broad shoulders even more than usual. "I have, ma'am. Watch section three's on duty, 2 engineers standing 12 on and 12 off, and 3 ops standing 6 hours below decks watches." He paused. "C-Sec says their people will stand a topside watch at the pier, but I can still -"

Shepard snorted, cutting him off. "Not needed. Let the crew blow off steam." She smiled, a bit faintly, trying and failing to read Pressly's expression. For the thousandth time in her life she cursed her awkwardness and limited ability to grasp simple human contact. Even at the best of times, her XO was hardly garrulous, but now he seemed to have a face carved from cool stone, as he gave a shrug. "Anyway, get moving. Whatever the admirals want, I can deal with it by myself. You said your wife was on the Citadel, she'll be happy to see you."

Pressly gave her a hard, searching look before he finally smiled, ducking his head gratefully and heading out the airlock hatch. Shepard took a deep, steadying breath and followed, her spotless dress uniform half obscured by the Spectre cloak she wore tossed over her shoulder. Fixing her face in its usual blank, cold expression, she suppressed a roiling sensation of nervousness as she crossed the pier, getting close enough to recognize the faces waiting for her.

Fleet Master Ivan Dragunov was in the front, his arms folded. His craggy, Russian features were marred by star-bursts of pale scar tissue, flanking his left cheek, and the garish, ugly ravines of claw marks across his right eye and nose. His dress uniform was immaculate, the cloth stiff, leather polished, the five gleaming bars of his rank flanked by the red bar of the High Admiralty.

Behind him, Rear Admiral Mikhailovich was frowning, his features twisted in anger. Rear Admiral Vandefar, the head of Alliance Military R&D, pushed her silvering hair out of her face, appraising Shepard with a measuring look. She didn't recognize the other Rear Admiral, a fussy looking man who reminded her vaguely of Adams, or the two others – aides, probably – in the uniforms of majors and colonels, because she focused her gaze on the last figure.

Anderson stood there, a gentle smile on his weary features. She felt the tension drain out of her slowly, at the sight of him, and squared her shoulders even as she walked forward. _Whatever the fuck it is, I can do it. _Shepard came to a halt at the end of the pier and saluted the Fleet Master with savage precision. "Commander Shepard, reporting, sir!"

The return salute was clipped. "At ease, Commander." Cold eyes took in the gleaming curve of the Normandy, before settling upon her with almost concrete weight. "I see you chose to set shore leave before meeting us. Any reason why?"

Shepard shrugged. "The Normandy is hardly equipped with a meeting room or appropriate settings for hosting the Fleet Master, sir. I determined it was easier to dismiss the crew now, and have you tell me where we should have our discussion, than to keep them cooped up after a mission where we very nearly died, sir."

Dragunov's flat slash of a mouth twitched. "Very well." He glanced over the ship, and then shrugged. "Your communications room will serve for this discussion, Commander. After you."

Shepard led them aboard. The VI of the ship scanned each one, calling out their titles in a solemn voice. "Systems Alliance Navy, Command, arriving. Admiral, Systems Alliance Navy, arriving. Admiral, Systems Alliance..."

Shepard tuned the drone of the VI out as she led the group of admirals into and past her CIC, noticing the arched eyebrow of Admiral Vandefar as she took in the turian-modeled CIC. The below-decks watch, a senior chief nav tech, was already standing rigidly at attention next to the stairway, saluting. The man's eyes were wide with alarm as he took in the constellation of seniority before him.

Shepard gave a nod. "As you were, Chief Midani. See if you can't scare us up some coffee and sandwiches from that wreck of a galley." The man nodded and almost fled down the stairs, and Vandefar clucked disapprovingly.

The party entered the comm room, and Shepard waited until the admirals and Anderson were all seated before doing so herself. The moment she did, the Fleet Master spoke. "Shepard, there has been a great deal of concern regarding your activities, both on Feros and in general. That's why we decided it would be most appropriate to see you in person and to discuss the issues that have been brought forward.." The voice was gravelly, cold, measured. "More to the point, I need to determine what exactly will be the Systems Alliance response to recent orders the Council has seen fit to issue."

Shepard's eyes flicked from one admiral to another, confused. "I am not quite following, sir. What exactly is this in regards to?"

Dragunov's jaw tightened. "You were made a Spectre and sent out to chase down and apprehend or otherwise recover Saren Arterius for the crimes he committed on Eden Prime. In the course of pursuit, he apparently made his way to, and subsequently attacked, the colony at Feros." He paused. "Which was an operation of some import to the Systems Alliance."

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Yes, sir. I'm aware of what was being done down there." Her voice trembled, as she tried to suppress her disgust at what she had learned from Jeong and Shields. Vandefar frowned at her tone, and spoke.

"Shepard, the Thorian was allowing us to make great strides in translation and access to the Mars Archive. Progress that led to improved technology and a greater place for humanity in the galaxy, and in fact lead to some of the improvements of this very vessel. The ability to understand what the Protheans left us is how we managed to learn that Eden Prime was a possible location for further discoveries. Now, we're crippled."

She sniffed. "Its loss, regardless of reasons, is a blow that will set back our technological advancement for decades to come."

Shepard frowned further. "I did not have anything to do with the death of that .. thing, ma'am."

Vandefar nodded. "We're aware of that. But the fact that it's gone is only part of the problem. There are _very_ few people who know what occurred on Feros, in terms of what Exogeni was doing to obtain the information sent to the Systems Alliance. Most of them appear to be dead. It was our understanding that if the colony was wiped, there would be no further ramifications. But it appears that your report to the Council – a verbal report, one we were not copied on – mentioned this creature in detail, as well as the fact of how Exogeni used it. We had no warning the Council knew about the Thorian at all, until Ambassador Udina was interrogated at length this morning."

Dragunov nodded. "As a result of your report, and of the information you obtained from this asari captive of yours, it appears the Council is investigating Exogeni rather heavily and asking us for what information we have on the company. While the number of people is limited, sooner or later someone will give them a clue. They don't have proof, but they have suspicions. Suspicions that make our work in integrating with the Citadel races harder. Suspicions that harry us and cause us additional issues and problems."

Shepard shook her head in disgust. "I disclosed the existence of the creature, as well as it's horrific habits, but since I was not presented any real evidence that the Systems Alliance was involved, I did not present the .. information Mr. Jeong gave me." Her eyes darkened. "Failure to at least tell them what went on would have been suicidal. The Council was in a foul mood after losing half of one of their fleets and seeing Saren get away. And honestly, sir, I felt dirtied by the need to lie to cover up the criminal activities Exogeni was engaged in. I'm not seeing what there is to discuss."

Vandefar shook her head. "Shepard, the primary concern of our defense committee is the protection of human space and the Systems Alliance. The report you submitted indicated you have a problem with the choices the Systems Alliance made in pursuing useful technology and that you made no efforts to secure the Thorian even after you were informed of its importance. Why?"

Shepard gave the woman a disbelieving look for a long moment before speaking. "Ma'am, are you familiar with my history? You sent members of the Penal Legion there to die and be harvested like some kind of farm to gain this so-called 'vital knowledge', and thought I would be okay with that? Let's not even get started on the fact that when I submitted my last report about Feros, I got no answer back from the SA board. You didn't even bother to think that, after Saren has been going after Prothean artifacts like candy, it might be important to let me know what was on Feros? What the hell was I supposed to have done? I secured the survivors, established comms, called for backup –"

Vandefar snorted. "And that could possibly have caused a war. If Saren's monster of a dreadnaught had not incinerated the site, that would have led to the discovery of what occurred. As it stands, the Council is debating assigning a _Spectre _with an STG team to investigate Exogeni, due to your wild claim they had Cerberus ties." She gave Shepard an angry look. "Your job, Commander, is to uphold SA law and interests."

Shepard's jaw tightened. "You're upset that I told the Council about your –"

With a motion of his hand, Mikhailovich cut Shepard off. "I've always maintained this was a sick goddamned experiment, Lana. I don't give a good god-damn what you think might have happened, the end result is the colony and all the evidence got glassed. Raking my marine over the coals over the fact that she told the truth is ridiculous. Your pet man-eating plant died. Get over it. We have a mass-murdering turian lunatic to kill and you're debating the contents of a report!"

The female admiral shook her head. "The end result is I am not willing to condone the operations of Shepard until we have a chain of command for her to work through, Spectre or not. Regardless of how she completes the mission, her position is now very political, and the backlash from what she does reflects directly on humanity. When she was told of the Thorian's importance, she should have moved immediately to secure it. Because she didn't, we've lost decades of progress-" The admiral made an angry slashing gesture – "and on top of that, she goes and tells the Council about the whole thing. She's not capable of operating without oversight."

Shepard had gone tense, her eyes narrowed. "Admiral, you were killing people and you signed off on it. Exogeni was killing people and didn't even care. I don't give a shit what it allowed us to do, that is not the way humans are supposed to be treated-fed to a plant!"

Vandefar sneered. "Criminals with capital sentences. Slavers. Drug pushers. Rapists. Cerberus agents. I figured you'd approve disposing of the scum in a .. useful manner. It's perfectly acceptable for you to kill prisoners in cold blood, including a little girl, but we're evil people for providing for all of humanity?"

Shepard's voice was a whisper. "You're supposed to be better than a thug like me, ma'am. Torfan was bad enough. Sick enough. But this? Did you even SEE what that goddamned thing did to them? It turned them into monsters that rotted away, a piece at a time, with vines and roots growing through their bodies!"

Dragunov sighed, waving Admiral Vandefar down before she could reply. "And this is why we needed to speak with you, Commander. I'm fully aware that you disagree with what occurred on Feros. The initiation of that project was not my call." He slid an angry glance over to Admiral Vandefar, and his already hard voice became absolutely flinty. "Nor was I _fully_ briefed on what was occurring on Feros. But the fact remains that your position as a Spectre is due mostly to Ambassador Udina's politicking, and the influence of a few influential members of the SA Congress. This operation is not turning out well. The Beacon we had is destroyed. A colony lies in ruins. Independent colonies are agitating for protection we can't provide. Now this."

Dragunov exhaled, glancing at his feet. "There was a movement to suspend our efforts in locating Saren. There have been multiple votes for simply withdrawing from the Council. The loss of the Council fleet in responding to your distress call has engendered a great deal of bitterness from the other Council races. We've barely managed to suppress most of those issues, but there is still a great deal of concern about what else you're going to end up doing. And despite your Spectre status, this is an Alliance ship and you are required to follow Alliance orders."

Shepard's gaze was icy, but her lips were drawn together and she had gone pale, and Anderson winced. He knew that look; it was the look she wore when she was deeply hurt. He cleared his throat, and, with an apologetic glance at the Fleet Master, spoke. "Sara, there's a lot going on behind the scenes people like you or I never knew about. Political elements that, until I worked with Udina for a few days, I never dreamed about. It's bigger than people in suits playing at war, it's things that could be just as dangerous as Saren. And we can't afford to mess this up. Saren's too dangerous. We don't know who or what Saren may go after next. The Admiralty needs some assurance that before you take any drastic measures, they have time to assess the situation."

Shepard shook her head. "There was nothing to asses! We were pinned, our armaments exhausted, in a fouled atmosphere that made our stealth drive useless. There was a goddamned geth army on the ground. I could have gone for the Thorian at once, and if we failed had no way to get the news out, or gotten comms working and alerted someone that we had an issue there!"

Dragunov shook his head. "There is a lack of faith in your ability to make snap judgment calls, Commander. Your operations end up bloody, with too many casualties and too much political fall out."

Shepard finally lost it, the anger roaring through her bloodstream like fire, a thin film of blue energy outlining her form as she stood, shaking. "I gave EVERYTHING to the goddamned Alliance, and you send me out again and again without enough forces to do what the fuck you tell me to do. Then you send me to fucking DIE, for political points, after setting me up to ruin my ability to lead and get my unit killed! Then you sideline me with a lunatic failure who blames me for his inability to get the job done, and finally you put me up for this ridiculous Spectre position without even ASKING me." She balled a fist, wreathed in biotics. "The fuck do you think you are?"

Dragunov only crossed his legs, his expression cool, as the others had edged away. "We're the people who gave you a second chance, after you became a sand-addict and murdering thug. We're the people who backed you after your career turned into a bloodthirsty series of episodes in poor anger management. We're the people who hushed up what a cluster-fuck Torfan became and made you a recipient of the Star of Terra." His eyes hardened. "I, in particular, am the person who put a bullet in the head of the genius that decided the scheme at Torfan was a good idea."

The admiral flicked a tiny bit of lint from his sleeve onto the rubberized decking, eyes cold and narrow. "You are not required to _agree _with the orders you are given. You are not required to like them. I find that I often do not like the priorities I am tasked with as Fleet Master, and I haven't slept without nightmares since before you were even born. But you _will _understand the importance of what is happening."

Shepard sneered, still standing, still furious. "I don't have time for political bullshit-"

Dragunov roared, a leonine sound that even made Shepard step back. "Then you are a **fool** and will just get more good soldiers killed! Have you learned nothing? Saren is a threat, yes, but not as much of one as the Citadel turning against the Systems Alliance. His black dreadnaught is not going to be a match for dozens of dreadnaughts and hundreds of cruisers. His geth are no match for the might of the galaxy. We're of divided opinions on his insane plans, whatever they might be, but the ugly reality is he's doing us a damned favor."

Shepard's eyes widened, and Dragunov continued. "Haven't you figured out why Cerberus, of all people, is helping this lunatic? If humanity stops Saren, we're heroic. If a human Spectre can best the most decorated Spectre in history, we are worthy."

Shepard gave a lost look at Anderson, whose eyes were blank with fury. He gave the tiniest of head shakes, and she snapped her attention back to the Fleet Master. Vandefar spoke instead. "We don't require you to approve of what the Systems Alliance is doing. It's no dirtier than some of the things we've learned the other races are doing. They're just quieter about it. What we can't have is you running around, disrupting operations we aren't even aware you know about, and then putting it into reports to the Council!"

Dragunov nodded. "Which leads into our next point. The Council informed us that we were 'required' to give you several fleet battle groups to hunt geth. Required! They did not make it a request, they made it an imperative. The turian councilor actually had the audacity to suggest that since the Citadel Fleet was stupid enough to get cut to ribbons it was now _ humanity's_ turn." He shook his head. "Whatever possessed you to put the Alliance in this situation is moot. What remains to be seen is if it's worth our time to continue this effort at all."

Conversation in the room halted as the comms room door slid open, and Service Chief Midani came in with a tray of steaming coffees and small sandwiches. Shepard watched silently as he placed them on the small shelf along the near wall, and then saluted sharply, leaving with almost indecent haste. Mikhailovich stood up and picked up one of the cups of coffee, sipping it carefully and grimacing. "Jesus, I thought this was cutting-edge tech. Crap is worse than on the Orizaba"

Dragunov gave him a flat, ugly look. "Levity is not appreciated, Chan."

Mikhailovich sniffed, his pugnacious features shifting into a frown. "It's a goddamned fuckjob, that's what it is, Ivan. Oh, I get it." He waved his free hand dismissively, in the general direction of the fore of the ship. "Blow a hundred million credits on some kind of sneaky frigate, waste the lives of thousands of soldiers and sailors, fuck-up after fuck-up in the name of 'promoting humanity'." He sipped again, black eyes angry. "I was never happy about this entire bullshit plan, about putting forth someone like her as a Spectre. But you know what? She got it done. That metal-plated cocksucker kicked our teeth in at Eden Prime, which is only standing because of her."

Dragunov's eyes narrowed but Mikhailovich just verbally plowed over him, voice rising. "She stood up to that pile of slime called a Council, made them eat their own lying bullshit, headed out to put her foot up Saren's ass, without assistance from anybody. We didn't give her intel, a fleet, extra soldiers, or even better fucking armor." The admiral's jaw was clenched now, his eyes boring into those of Dragunov.

"And now you're really going to bitch because she put together a plan to stop the fucker? Because she didn't consult your desk-riding ass first, or because she killed your pet mind-fucking machine that you were feeding people to? Because she doesn't know all the political angles that you deliberately fucking HIDE from anyone who isn't flag rank? Fuck you, _sir. _This is **MY** ship, she's **MY** goddamned marine, and I will politically _skull-fuck _you if you try this bullshit on my watch." Mikhailovich's chest heaved, the coffee cup in his hand clenched so tightly Shepard was amazed it didn't crack.

Anderson spoke, finally. "Admirals, you cannot try to run this like an op. You have to trust Shepard to do it right, or you might as well shut all this down. You said you trusted my judgment. You trusted my experience. Trust hers. What she did, no matter the fallout ,is the _right _thing, because what would have happened if she said nothing and the truth got out anyway? The entire Alliance would have been assumed to be in on it, and our chance would have been ruined. We'd be on our own, like the batarans."

Vandefar gave him a scathing glance. "That's exactly what we're being suggested to do from some parts of the Congress. You can rail all you want, Chan, but the points stand. A mere Commander is not allowed to dictate the allocation and deployment of fleets without even consulting command. She's put us in a spot where if we go along with it, the Council can justify ordering our military around for their own uses, and if we disagree, Humanity is seen as obstructionist and –"

Shepard frowned, the argument between the admirals fading to noise. She had only been thinking of how to catch Saren, not how the Alliance would react to her idea of deploying SA vessels to hunt the geth. She'd been thinking of the horror of what the Thorian did, of the victims, of the things they were turned into, not what the fallout would be. Ethan Jeong's bitter words came back to her now. "_The responsible parties are either already dead, worse than dead, or on Earth. The first two are beyond your purview. The last, well, good luck taking down the Admiralty Board and the Senate Defense committee." _

She looked up, where Dragunov and Mikhailovich were shouting in each others faces. She had never met the rear admiral in charge of the flotilla the Normandy was nominally assigned to. Never knew much about him. A tiny smile struggled at the fringes of her lips. _Why couldn't have I been assigned to a guy like that long time ago? _

She cleared her throat, firmly, and the two admirals turned to look at her. "Admirals, I apologize for not_ appreciating _the problem I've caused before stumbling into it. Anyone familiar with my past should realize diplomacy is not my strong point, and that I tend to work towards goals and worry about fallout later."

Dragunov shook his head. "And we cannot have that kind of activity in humanity's Spectre."

Shepard shook her head. "Your problem, Admiral, is that you're thinking of this in political terms. The results at all costs bullshit is supposed to be my schtick, but I see now why people hate my guts so much. The Systems Alliance is just as ruthless and broken as I am, but you pretend you're not."

She stood. "Experiments on fucking human beings, regardless of what kind of person they are, wasn't what I thought when I put on this blue. Being used as a bait to engineer a defeat, so the Council would allow us more ships, isn't what I dreamed of when I put on this blue. Worrying about economic fallout and political issues and withdrawing colonies may be your job, but it's _not why I put on this blue. _The SA is supposed to be _better. _We're supposed to _protect _humanity. Now I lie awake at night terrified of what the fuck else I'll find out. Did the freighter that blew up and dusted me with eezo really have an accident? Does the SA not crack down on crime so they always have more recruits for the Penal Legions? Goddamn, no wonder the goddamned aliens don't trust you. You spend all your time plotting how to fuck them up the ass just like they accuse us of doing."

Mikhailovich looked away at that, smothering a grin, but Shepard continued. "You aren't worried I'll do something that gets people killed. That's why you gave me that damned medal. You don't-and never did- give a shit about the soldiers that died, only that we made a point to the fucking batarians. You don't give a shit if colonies fry, as long as you can take advantage of whatever Saren is doing to make yourselves look good."

Dragunov's stony expression didn't waver. "The reality of life is cruel and heartless. I'm responsible for the lives of 14 billion people. I no longer have the luxury of empathy."

Shepard snarled. "Or honor? Pity? _Decency, _sir? Where the fuck does it all stop? All those years, all those ops, you never reined me in because I followed orders. All my fucking guilt, over what I'd become, about how I'd never measure up to what the SA needed me to be, and you were fine with it! But when I try to stop something horrible, when I try to focus on getting the job done instead of just keeping my mouth shut and be a good little killer, you want to shut me down."

Shepard fingered the Spectre cloak she wore, thoughtfully. "That isn't going to happen, sir."

Vandefar opened her mouth but Dragunov held up a hand. "There are variables here you don't understand because, to be honest, you were really never expected to. We were originally pitched a plan for you to become a Spectre over the course of 10 to 15 months. We'd have promoted you to either Major of Marines or to full Captain. You'd have undergone political training, test lead assignments, all of those elements. But there was no time."

Dragunov paused, picking up a cup of coffee from the tray. "Instead, you were thrown into full command, with the supporting influence of Anderson removed. You were made a Spectre, given a titanic task with no real support, and a crew of strange aliens to boot. Given only the most tenuous of guidance, you were set on the trail of a master warrior who's been killing since you were a tiny child."

Shepard seethed, but listened. Something about Dragunov's voice held her anger in check, for once. The older, scarred admiral smiled almost sadly and continued. "You are, in many ways, right. We use our N7's, our RIU's, even our Penal Legions, as scales and weights and sometimes sacrifices. You are ignorant of the stakes we are playing for. The salarians elevated the krogan and then destroyed them when their purpose was completed. The asari have manipulated cultures and trends in thought and politics since before humanity had developed the wheel. Turians can't play ball with us because their very role as defenders has them so leveraged to the Council as a concept that any changes threaten the Hierarchy. I don't have time to explain the interlocking complexity of economic changes via-a-vis intergalactic politics, or how a missed word here or badly handled opportunity there can result in setbacks costing us hundreds of millions of credits. "

Dragunov drank the coffee, then grimaced in a manner similar to Mikhailovich. "What matters to us, and to the SA, is that at the end of this hunt for Saren, humanity isn't in a worse place. What matters is that our culture isn't infiltrated and wrecked by the asari , that our military isn't riddled by salarian hackers. Groups like Cerberus, despite the distasteful things they do, have been tolerated for so long because they serve a useful function. Regardless of the cost."

Shepard shook her head. "Then why even make me a fucking Spectre? Why not someone like Branson with the experience and .. and.. political bullshit chops you're talking about?

Dragunov held up a finger. "Because Branson can't function the way you do. We've read your reports, of fleets of black ships killing the Protheans, of Saren's claims he wants to bring them back, of hints and rumors of Prothean super weapons. We've had our AI experts on call, telling us if any geth is fighting for Saren that they all are. We've run projections and evaluated and the play that made the most sense for us, even before this went to shit, is that you were the one most likely to get it done and not .. backslide. Branson's a goddamned racist, but he would never have signed off on the Thorian. You do."

Shepard shook her head. "Even if they were criminals..."

Dragunov took a step forward. "You wanted to believe those you answered to were honorable, when you have said in public that honor is bullshit? That we would do the 'right thing', when you screamed in front of a board of courts-martial that the right thing depends on where you sit and if you have a gun pointed at your head? You should know better by now, Commander. We live in an evil time, where most people are too blind and busy to see what the fuck has to be done all around them to keep things going. Yes, we've signed off on hits against humans. Yes, we've let intel go to allow the raids to happen to pressure people into the SA. Yes, we've set our own soldiers up to die, so that others might live."

Dragunov pointed a finger at her. "But until you've learned what is going on, until you've seen it and seen the alternatives and made yourself face the facts, you being the final arbiter of what is allowed or unacceptable is simply naivete. I do not care if you hate me, or think I'm a monster. I certainly don't care if you decide that my morals aren't up to snuff. I think I can do better than a jumped-up gang banger if I need a check on my sense of right and wrong." He drained the cup, placing it back on the shelf with a bang, and turned back to face her.

"But from now on, Shepard, no more surprises. No more of you getting creative. You want to run something past the Council, you run it past Command first. You find something Saren is doing on a human colony; you run it past Command first. We'll go along with this .. plan of yours to deploy ships to hunt the geth, but the first fuck up and they're withdrawn. If you can't or won't be bothered to consider the ramifications of your actions, then I want reports on what you're doing, why and when. Am I clear?"

Shepard nodded icily. "Crystal clear, sir."

Vandefar sighed and stood. "We're wasting a great deal of political capital and good will on you, Commander. Against our better judgment. You'll have a complete list of the locations – not the functions, operations, or results, only locations – of all Prothean sites under SA jurisdiction by the end of the day. Additionally, you'll have a copy of a list that informs you of all corporate entities involved with code-level projects for the SA military. If your operations encroach on anything on those lists you are to contact me immediately, prior to taking any action. These lists are not to be allowed to be seen , much less copied, by alien nationals."

Dragunov also stood, nodding to the two aides at the door. "That will be all. I believe Admiral Mikhailovich has something for you as well." Without a look back, the Fleet Master left, trailed by Vandefar and the two aides, leaving only Anderson, Mikhailovich, and the unnamed rear admiral in the room with Shepard. The doors shut, and Mikhailovich drove his fist into the nearest bulkhead with a heavy thud. "Black-hearted bastards."

Anderson almost gingerly put his arm on the smaller man's shoulder. "Chan, calm down."

Shepard exhaled. "Admiral Mikhailovich, I .. thank you for standing up for me, sir. I appreciate it."

The admiral gave a weary shrug, his eyes flicking over her. "It's all bravado, Commander. I can make a stink and get my brother, the Minister of the Interior, involved, some old contacts that owe me favors. But they're right. A lot of the member colonies feel the SA should just be watching over them, and a lot of people, who don't know the real truth about Torfan, don't like you very much. The ones that do, well..." He jerked an angry thumb in the direction that the Fleet Master had left. "Pressure of command my ass, the man's a sociopath."

Anderson gave a flicker of a smile. "Dragunov's been a hardass for decades, and Vandefar reminds me of a mad scientist sometimes. But as much as I hate to admit it, they have a point. I saw it in my own candidacy for Spectre. At this height of power, the SA is terrified that the aliens are out for us, because we've studied enough history to know that's how they operate."

Shepard tilted her head. "Sir?"

Anderson smiled fully this time. "You're familiar with the krogan uplift, and how that was dealt with? A combination of turian military strength and the genophage. Integrating the turians into Council society, when their military was much stronger than the asari or salarians, was tricky. But the turians were never really focused on economics. They value tradition and stability." Anderson paused. "From what our own historical analysts tell us, the asari and salarians worked carefully to generate the smaller turian rebellions known as The Troubles."

Shepard frowned. "But why?"

Anderson spread his hands. "It destabilized the economic underpinnings of the turian hierarchy. By the time they made the volus a client race, the turian military and industries were so dependent on interlocking business with the salarians and asari that the Hierarchy had no choice but to continue supporting the Citadel. Even today, Sparatus is the weakest of the Councilors, because the asari and salarians work together to keep the Hierarchy off balance."

Mikhailovich spat. "When you get to flag rank, you take a lot of courses on this maddening bullshit. The long and short is we're sure the asari and salarians are already fucking with humanity. Playing with our futures markets. Infiltrating cultural biases and religions. Half of these new cults that have gone on to make their own colony worlds are focused around asari matriarchs. 60% of the tech-gangs on the extranet based on Earth have salarian bosses." He sighed. "Hell, even the fucking gang bangers in the streets are supplied by alien criminals in the Terminus."

Anderson nodded. "The Congress and the SAIS are convinced that the Council sees humanity as a threat, and unless we defuse that, they'll do something to us like they did to the krogan, or neuter our growth and make us dependent like they have the turians. The only reason the turians aren't completely owned is that they have the volus as allies, and the asari are playing them like a piano, making the volus bitter at not being a full Citadel race and ensuring it's the turians keeping them down, due to their own needs."

Shepard shook her head. "This is all so far above my fucking pay-grade..."

Mikhailovich nodded. "Do what he says. Route your reports to me, and I'll make sure they stay off your back. If you need advice, go through Anderson. Don't rock the boat. Focus on Saren, and make very sure you don't leave any messes behind."

The admiral behind Mikhailovich cleared his throat, and stepped forward. "That was interesting, in a depressing way, but I was told I could have a moment of her time?"

Mikhailovich clucked. "Sorry, Akamu. Just got heated up." Shepard glanced up at the taller admiral, who just nodded.

"My name is Rear Admiral Akamu Kahoku, in charge of the 25th Patrol Battalion, Beta. I've lost an entire regiment of my men, and the Council said you would be able to help." He paused, glancing down, and then looked up at her, eyes hard.

"It involves Cerberus."


	57. Chapter 50: Kaidan, Score

_**A/N:** Someone sharpeyed noted I'd dropped the dates. That's because they were sort of getting in the way, especially when I'm leaping back and forth in time. _

_The next few chapters are all of the Citadel stuff that makes sense to do. Some of it is canon, most of it is that 'moving people to the appropriate emotional places' I mentioned before. Pretty much everyone gets some time and development._

_I know a lot of people have been asking "where's moar Liara wee want rommaaannnnnnce". The bad news is there won't be kissy for a long time still, at least for Liara and Shepard. It will happen, that is for certain. On the other hand, I didn't really care for the fact Liara and Shepard only got a few weeks together, so I'll mini-spoil and let the cat out of the bag: there's more like 4 months from the time Shepard saves the Citadel and the destruction of the Normandy. Part of this is spent on Bring Down the Sky, or my version of it (One asteroid? Amateur.) But part of it is spent on the crew going their own way and Liara and Shep , well, beginning to settle down. _

_Anyway, enjoy. I have four more chapters being worked on right now but not sure when they will complete. Depends on how much Owelpost beats me up. _

O-OSaBC-O

Ashley was still too much of a country girl at heart to be immune to the wondrous sights and sounds of the Citadel, but the packs of aliens all over the place clearly put her on edge. She walked down the High Path of the Presidium, wearing civvies for the first time since before Eden Prime had turned into Hell. A heavy halter-top was mostly covered by a sleeve-jacket of black silk, tight black jeans tucked neatly into black combat boots, her hair finally undone from the bun and allowed to fall freely around her shoulders.

While Ash gushed about the beauty of the Presidium, glared daggers at any asari who so much at glanced at Kaidan, and bitched about the way the elcor talked, Kaidan was mostly just trying hold semi-intelligent conversation while also trying not to drool. When shore leave had been put down, the crew was excited, but the ugly-looking pack of brass on the dock had worried everyone, and worry had turned to near panic when it was revealed the Fleet Master himself had come to see Shepard.

Walking past that icy presence was bad enough, but then Ashley had heard from Stephens that Alenko had been on the Citadel before. "C'mon, LT. I've never been, except when I was all shot up from Eden Prime, and that was just to get sneered at by aliens. It'll be fun!" Left unsaid was the reality that Ash was still in the process of fitting into the ship's crew, and none of them had asked her along to wherever they were headed.

Kaidan's professional brain was worried about how it would be perceived, but he found himself unable to do anything, in the face of that smirking, teasing smile and those bright, excited eyes, except to stammer out an affirmative. And now he found himself walking past clothing stores, listening to Ash talk about fashion and how it irritated her. He realized she'd asked him a question, and he gave a sheepish smile. Watching her walk in jeans that tight was seriously destroying his ability to think coherently, but he gave it a shot.

"I don't know, Chief... seems to me that if it looks good and people enjoy it, there's not much of a problem with it." Ash glanced over her shoulder at him, dark eyes filling with amusement.

"I get it. So it's okay if girls wear something like … that." Ash gestured with her head, and Alenko glanced over to see an asari walking in what looked like—

Kaidan's eyes bugged out and he flushed, and Ash gave an evil cackle of delight. "So the cool facade does crack! See, that's what I'm talking about, no one with shred of decency on Earth would be walking around in that. It would embarrass a Vegas stripper!"

Kaidan switched his gaze from the ground back to Ashley. His mouth started working before his brain caught up. "Dunno, Chief. If you wore something like that, maybe you could pull it off with some poise." He managed to keep a straight face as the chief herself flushed and stammered something before grinning. "Just messing with you."

Ashley punched him in the arm. "Oh, you tease. Let's go, you said you knew a good bar."

O-OSaBC-O

Garrus was busy tinkering with the Mako, trying to do something about the manual hydraulic shocks, when he heard the weapons lockers being opened. He didn't pay much attention, focusing on the interlock from the wheel-mounted gyro to the shocks.

Human armored vehicles were both more advanced and more primitive than turian ones. Turians preferred hover-tanks, with heavy armor and suppression weapons. They were used mostly as fast flankers, to harry and flush enemies from cover, and to act as mobile strike platforms for turian special forces. Humans, on the other hand, saw tanks as their own branch of warfare, and built them solely for fighting other tanks and penetrating into infantry lines.

As a result, the Mako was a beast. Heavily armored and packing enough guns to drop a Mantis gunship, it was more an armored personnel carrier than main battle tank. The addition of an eezo core to allow it to drop from orbit was brilliant, but also the special kind of crazy that worried the Citadel species when it came to humans. The rest of the tank was almost insultingly primitive. The sensor suites were still barely functional, with no ECM or data analysis functions. The medical equipment was minimal, and worst of all, the handling was atrocious. Intended for light terrain and urban operations, the Mako would do well there, but Therum showed him that the damned thing didn't handle slopes very well.

_And it would help if the Commander didn't drive like a vorcha who has been set on fire_, he thought, tightening a power-link conduit. He was manually installing auto-leveling gyros into each of the wheels, hopefully to enable the powered hydraulic shocks to make the ride a bit smoother.

He reached for a spanner but stopped at the sound of a voice. "Fucking idiots. Fuck. _Fuck_!" There was a loud clang and a span of metal flew across the hangar bay, bouncing off one of the tires to land on the floor with a metallic crash. Garrus glanced over at it, realizing it was Shepard's shotgun. He slid out from under the Mako, picking it up and standing.

Shepard stood next to her weapons locker, one hand on the wall, one hand hanging limply, looking beaten. Garrus frowned, and carefully announced his presence with a cough. "Commander..."

She whipped around, fist blazing with biotic energy, and stopped upon seeing him. She glanced at the shotgun he was holding , and then let the energy dissipate. "Sorry, Vakarian. Bad day so far. And it's getting worse."

Garrus walked over to her, and wordlessly handed her the shotgun. Shepard took it and then stared at it for a long moment, saying nothing. The silence stretched for a bit before Garrus folded his arms. "Commander? I..."

Shepard glanced up at him. Her eyes looked different, red and strained, and Garrus didn't know what that meant in humans, exactly. But he knew how a body _sounded_ in distress, with blood pounding and heartbeat racing. He smelled the acrid scent of her cigars, strong enough that it trailed from her, and knew she had been chain smoking. He coughed. "I... uh, have never seen a shotgun like that before. You use it quite a bit, even in situations where a shotgun wouldn't normally be the best choice."

He was rewarded with hearing her heart beat decrease, even as she shrugged her shoulders and carried the weapon over to the armory bench. "That's because it's kinda unique. It's an ODIN. Part of a series of weapons I helped to make."

Garrus frowned. "You were a weapons maker?"

Shepard laughed hollowly. "Not really. When... I was in the gangs on Earth, I knew a guy who used to work for Rosenkov. He and I, when I wasn't out tearing up the streets or blown on sand, would mod the gang's guns." She sighed, extending the shotgun, and breaking down the barrel. "One day he brought in this giant shotgun. Prototype. Didn't work."

She pulled the barrel liner out, and then detached the barrel entirely. "I spent a few years tinkering with that gun. Moved the acceleration chamber back, then split the focus. Swapped out a fleck pattern ammo block for one from the Evicerator, then tweaked the computer to chip off twice the number of ammo wedges for each shot. Hot-modded in the carnage program at half-power, built up the barrel..."

She smiled. "When I got pulled into the Penal Legions, they took all my shit. I was in for a while. After I got out, the first thing they did was march me to a company called Oracal Demolitions. Someone had given my shotty to them, and they'd been reverse engineering it to make one themselves."

She pulled out the main body of the shotgun, frowning and pulling a brush from the cleaning kit Ash always left available on the bench. Brushing away something from the connector plate, she glanced up at Garrus. "So I modded it some more. Eventually, I ended up with a shotgun that had the ZEV rating of a sniper rifle, but half the spread of a normal shotgun, using sub-carnage hellfire spreads of burning wedges of ammo."

Garrus whistled. "Spirits, no wonder things fly apart when you hit them with that."

Shepard nodded, a faint smile on her face for a moment before it collapsed. She finished cleaning the weapon, her motions almost automatic, but jerky as well. "Yeah, well. It got outlawed once the company finished with it. Citadel didn't like it. The SA couldn't find people to use it the way it was meant to be used. Issued a few to DACT jump marines who ended up getting caught on security video fragging a civilian with it during a withdrawal op gone bad. Oracal got shut down...I kept the prototype as a reminder of what I'd been through, I guess." She gave a sad smile. "Used to think maybe I could take a stab at being a weapons designer when I got out of the SA , but I fucked that up like everything else I touch."

She finished reassembling the weapon, and then stared hard at the white metal plates, the dark black grips. "No matter how hard I try, I keep getting it wrong. Why do I even fucking bother?" She placed both hands on the armory bench, grip tightening on its edge until her knuckles grew white.

Garrus watched for a few seconds before speaking. He'd never seen Shepard like this. Always cool and commanding, or angry and ready for more, but not despairing and self-loathing. Maybe it was a side of her she hid. He didn't understand why she'd show such a thing to him, but he knew he had to say something. "Commander... you seem angry. It's not really my place to ask, but..."

Shepard snorted. "Oh, don't worry about that. I don't mind if you ask. It's just...I'm unhappy about some shit that just went down with my superior officers. Infuriated. Angry. I've just been told that basically I'm so much of an embarrassment to the Systems Alliance that they want me to get permission from them before doing anything. I don't have time for that shit." She hung her head. "And my government is … not the ideal that I spent my life chasing, looking for redemption or guidance. It's a lot to deal with, on top of all the other shit, like saving, oh, the entire goddamned galaxy."

Garrus sat down on the edge of the decking leading to the drop-ramp out of the cargo bay. "Remember how I told you I was a bad turian, Shepard? I am. Our culture is big on obedience and following orders and conforming. I was never very good at that. Too much in the way. Less of a focus on catching bad guys, more on following proprieties." He gave a flicker of his mandibles, almost a sneer. "We define ourselves by obedience. By our adherence to the past. By enduring any hardship to match up to that ideal. Most turians do fine. Some of us can't, and we end up alone."

Garrus stared at his own feet, voice flanging slightly. "If you hadn't come along, I'd have been drummed out of C-Sec, eventually. I never really seemed to fit in with my own people. I'm a disappointment to my father, my old commanding officer, and my Executor." He gave a tired laugh at that, one so bitter that Shepard turned around to look at him fully. "He even told me so, that he wished I could see how far I was out of turian society and its norms and how much I needed to change."

Garrus glanced over to Shepard. " What I mean is: you're doing what has to be done, Shepard. I don't give a damn if I'm a 'bad' turian." He pounded his chest with his balled fist, plates shifting. "I know in _here_ what I'm doing is right. I can feel it in my spurs, in my bones. When I shot a slave-trading thug, I never had problems sleeping at night. When I resigned from C-Sec to follow you, I could feel that it was what had to be done."

Shepard was quiet, her face almost blank, but he could see her struggling with something. He pressed on, unsure of what he was even saying but somehow knowing what had to be said. "You can't pattern yourself after what you don't get. I value honor and tradition. I appreciate sacrifice. I'll die for the cause without a single, solitary regret. But I'm not going to let someone else define me, let someone else dictate to me what is black and white."

Shepard nodded slowly, almost unwillingly. "But I'm not the good person you are, Vakarian. You spent your life defending the weak, doing what's right, trying to stop people like I used to be."

Garrus snorted. "And that's more impressive than someone who went down all the wrong roads and still ended up in the right place? That's bullshit and you know it. I read up on you, after our last talk. About what you came up in, and how you ended up in the military. Not many people in your place ever turn themselves away from the way their lives have gone. Almost none of them completely remake themselves." Garrus rolled his big shoulders, adjusting his position. "Bottom line, you aren't a criminal, or an evil person."

Shepard's face twisted. "I lied to the council, to protect humanity. And then I get raked over the coals by my bosses because I didn't cover the entire thing up. The shit they were doing down there..."

Vakarian shrugged. "Shepard, you don't think that sort of shit happens every day? I've been forced more than once to hold my tongue about things I knew were wrong, because it would have put turians in a bad light. I've had cases 'kicked upstairs' by Sparatus to cover up turian misdeeds so many times I want to arrest _him _for obstruction of justice. I had to let a rapist on the Citadel go, because his daddy was a big-shot turian ambassador and if I didn't, the fucking Blackwatch would have put a bullet in the victim to make the charges go away."

Shepard stared at him a long moment, then gave a jerky shrug. "Fuck, that's as bad as the SA. I just – don't know what to _think_ any more. I feel like I'm lost in this shit." Her expression turned wry. "The only person I can level with is a crazy turian."

Garrus rolled his neck. "Crazy awesome, perhaps." He smiled, but his voice dropped to a more serious register. "But, between you and me? I knew something going on down there on Feros wasn't right, and that you were unhappy about it. But I also trust your judgment. You don't put up with this kind of shit unless you absolutely have to, and I know that whatever happens, you'll make it right."

Shepard's dark blue eyes met his, almost hesitantly. "And how do you know that?"

Garrus gestured to the shotgun on the table, at the heavy black stencil burned into the long barrel of the weapon. Sunk deeply into the metal was a phrase in Latin. 'Sic semper sceleratis'. Garrus' mandible flicked again, and his plates drew together, as his voice sounded in almost gleeful harmonies.

"Because you don't ever _let it go_, Sheep. Thus ever to criminals. If anyone in the entire galaxy has seen the worst shit that intelligent beings have to offer, and pulled themselves free of it to try and fix it, it's you. The fact that the brass hates it just means you're doing something right. I know what you said about the laws, and the rules, and not being a damned vigilante. I get it. And you're probably right. But this isn't about that, it's about the fact that we have to deal with Saren." He exhaled. "We have your back in this, Shepard."

The woman gave an almost imperceptible smile. "I think I needed that. I'm used to things going to shit and then … being abandoned, I guess."

Garrus shook his head. "Everyone here is kind of on their own. Wrex is a wandering mercenary exile, Tali's a child far from home, Liara has cut herself off from her own race to chase history. Williams and Cole are sole survivors of a disaster. Based on some conversations we have had, even Alenko feels like an outcast as a biotic. We're all in this together, Shepard. We'll get Saren, and if some unhappy facts come out as a result, then maybe the Citadel species just need to grow the fuck up and move past it."

Shepard gave a hollow laugh. "You make it sound so easy, Garrus." She stood up, picking up the shotgun and re-stowing it in her weapons locker. "It's just a lot to take in, I guess. I'll be fine." Closing the locker, she turned around, letting her weight fall back to one hip and tossing her head a little to clear her hair from her eyes. She folded her arms and frowned. "Why aren't you taking leave, anyway? I'd figure you'd have people on the Citadel to meet..."

Garrus coughed, his voice going very dry. "I, uh, do. I'm... not sure I want to go, though." He fluttered his mandibles, embarrassed, and stood stretching to his full height. "It's, ah, complicated. And really, this Mako needs to be a hundred percent when we go after Saren –"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "So do _you, _big guy. Get the fuck off my ship and go have some fun. That's an order."

Garrus gave her a look, not exactly hurt but hesitant. Then he just sort of sighed and his voice sounded very tired. "There's a... lady. On the station. She and I were... not really into anything serious, just a lot of... off and on stuff. Krill hawk circling the crippled vakar, maybe." He noted the confusion in Shepard's expression and smiled. "Turian saying. Anyway... she didn't really take me leaving very well, at all. Almost enough to seriously make me reconsider."

Shepard pulled at her ear, nodding. "Understandable, but a bit surprising. I worked with turians in a past deployment and they seemed to take separation for the sake of duty pretty well."

Garrus trailed his claws over his fringe. "She's, ah, not turian, actually." He cleared his throat. "Asari."

Shepard's lips quirked and her eyes twinkled. "So it's not just me thinking you're a handsome son of a bitch."

Garrus' eyes widened and his mandible gave a helpless, almost terrified twitch, before Shepard lost it completely and burst out laughing, staggering back to lean against the locker. He'd never seen her that amused before, her pale brown skin reddening a bit as she held her sides. "Ah, god, that expression was priceless." Snickering to herself, she waved a vague hand at the front of the ship. "Go, Battle Chicken, seriously. If something does go bad out there..."

Her mirth faded, and she glanced up at him with suddenly sad eyes. "...you don't want to have it end without a memory to take with you."

Garrus frowned, but nodded. Spirits knew he needed a break anyway, and Telanya's messages had gotten less like those from a friend and more worried and upset, especially since Feros. He wiped his hands on one of the ever-present rags Ash kept near the armory bench and nodded. "Alright, Shepard, but what about you?"

Shepard snorted. "Trust me, I'll get off this boat soon enough. Just need to... get my thoughts together first." She sighed. "I should go, but I'm serious. Get out there and see your girl, what's the worst that can happen?"

Garrus rolled his eyes. "Yes, Commander."

O-OSaBC-O

Kaidan wasn't sure when the drinking had gotten heavy, but he sure as hell knew when he was severely impaired, which explained his current situation.

_Clearly, I should get smashed more often._

He was dancing in Flux with the lithe form of Ash in front of him; her curvy figure the only thing distracting him from her beautiful eyes. She was laughing, clearly stress free, and a challenging dancer to keep up with. Sweat ran down her neck, as the club's lights dimmed and pulsed in chaotic patterns on the wall, the heavy bass beat thrumming through the crowd.

The music ended and Kaidan swallowed, as it had left Ash pressed up against him and his lungs seemed to have simply decided this was a good moment to stop working. He shook his head, and gestured to a nearby booth. "I need some water, I think, bit dehydrated after that workout."

She nodded, an almost gentle smile on her face, and they walked to the booth. He was trying to be casual, but his nerves were shredded into tiny, fluffy bits. Shopping and dining was bad enough, but he would need a dozen cold showers and a couple of Playboys to get over the state Ash had put him in.

She slipped across the seat in the booth, and he sat down wearily. "Dancing … forgotten how draining it is. And where did you learn to go like that?"

Ashley laughed, tossing her hair and motioning for a waiter. "Shit, Kaidan, Eden Prime was boooring. Best way to pass the time was hit the clubs." She frowned, and sighed. "Sorry, LT, didn't mean to go all informal on you there."

Kaidan snorted. "Yeah, well, we're long past 'informal'. I don't think you calling me by my first name when we're on shore leave is fraternization. Just blowing off steam." He turned to face the waiter but noticed a flicker of something in Ashley's eyes.

_Disappointment? No. Stop imagining shit, Alenko. _

Three rounds of drinks later, Kaidan was listening to her talk about her first posting on Ferris Fields, and how dreadfully dull it was. "And I was just … angry, y'know? I mean, who the shit cares about my... what my grandfather did..." Her words slurred slightly, and she sighed, sipping at her drink.

Kaidan nodded. "Biotics get a bad rap, too, like I said...people fear us without knowing us; they don't even think what it's like to be the way we are." He drank his vodka, feeling it burn through his body as he downed the shot, wondering why the hell he was so damned dizzy. _You're dizzy because you've had enough drink to down a krogan trying to work up the nerve to .. _

The thought shredded into gibbering drunken thoughts, and he shook his head, focusing on what Ashley was saying.

Ash shrugged. "Shit, the universe is full of idiots, Kai." Somewhere in the past hours, they had gone from 'LT' and 'Chief' to 'Kai' and 'Ash'. Somewhere in the past hours, Kaidan had gone from crushing to helpless infatuation. Listening to her talk about how hard she pushed herself, against meaningless prejudice, against impossibly stupid targets in meaningless assignments.

He shook his head. "But the important thing is it's all behind you now, you know? I mean, Commander Shepard didn't seem to pay much attention to that sort of thing, did she?"

Ash laughed, a bark of mirth that lit her entire face up. "Shit, no! Still it just... hurts, I guess. I used to date a guy on Ferris Fields, nice guy... he found out I was the grand-daughter of General Williams, and he dumped me."

Kaidan shook his head, gritting his teeth. "Because of something that happened before you were born? That's pretty damned stupid." He poured another shot of tequila, and downed it with a single, hard motion. "Sometimes it feels our entire lives are just meaningless, pushed around by stupid forces that care about everything except what's important."

Ash's lips curved into a wicked smile. "Well, not everyone in charge of me is stupid." She took another drink, her hands gripping the glass tightly, then looked up. "Well?"

Kaidan blinked. "Uh... well what?"

Ashley looked directly at him. Even with her words slurring, he could hear her nervousness. "Look, I'm really bad at this kind of shit, and, I'll be honest, I'm fucking scared. We could have gotten glassed if we hadn't been quicker. Shepard almost died. Little Miss Prothean Expert almost died." She ran a hand through her hair, and her eyes flicked around the table, seeking something else to fix on. "And it's gonna get worse, crazier, and more dangerous."

Kaidan didn't say anything, just listening, his muddled mind trying to make sense of her words. Ash gave him a trembling little smile. "So, in the words of Master Chief Cole, I wanna do something stupid." She leaned forward and kissed him, right on the lips.

There wasn't even a moment where his body said no. Years of warnings against fraternization, worries about how or what would happen to him – not to mention her – went out the window at the feel of her body pressed up against his. His hands went around her, trailing up her back to cup the back of her head, and then he literally had to push himself away.

"A-ash..."

She looked at him. "I... just had to do t-that." He still had his arms around her, she was still half in his lap, and he knew what was going to happen next.

_Oh, fuck it. If I'd been man enough to tell Raina how I felt about her maybe my whole life would have been different. _

He wasn't sure if it was the liquor, or the fear, or the lust, or just the simple ugly fact that he hadn't gotten laid in over five years, but he kissed her again, and then sighed. "Hotel right around the corner."

Ashley's lips curved again. "Yes, sir."


	58. Chapter 51: Shepard, Under Siege

**A/N:**_ This chapter is about halfway through the fluff. I never liked the way they treated Udina in the games. The man is clearly a seasoned diplomat, dealing with a Spectre who has the ear of high military command and the Council. If Udina had been used as more than a cliché obstructive bureaucrat, he'd have been oen of Shepard's staunchest supporters. _

_How that changes in ME 3 will be different than canon, duh. The rest of the chapter is just more filling in the blanks. Reviews, reviews, reviews! I'm flying blind here without them! _

O-OSaBC-O

Joker sat quietly, hands in his lap, thinking that being pushed around was not always a bad thing.

As pilot of the Normandy, he had to do a lot of work with Engineering, particularly in terms of power levels and adjustments to the engines. And while all of Adams' engineers were good at their job, he quickly discovered Tali was the most careful and the best at anticipating when to push the power envelope during high-speed maneuvers. Joker's bent for jokes and teasing was in sharp contrast to the rest of the crew, who were very serious and , while polite, didn't open up much. The fact that he was the first to lift her spirits with a funny comment meant he was able to get in her space a bit more than the other engineers.

Tali, for her part, found Joker very strange. His disability made it nearly impossible to read his body language. Because he didn't have the full use of stance or balance, he was very adept at pretending not to feel pain. . Worse, his sarcastic manner and way of talking acted as a very effective shield against everyone. Unlike most humans, who were expressive and open, Joker _talked _a lot but was actually very cautious about revealing what he felt. Despite his strangeness, though, he was very fun to talk to, and she spent a lot of time laughing at his teasing jokes and snarky comments. It put her in a better mood, because he never talked down to her or treated her poorly.

When the Normandy had docked, Tali had decided she would just stay on board. Given her experiences alone on the Citadel, the way she had been treated by C-Sec and the bad memories of watching Troyce die, she was disinclined to try her luck again. But the dextro food on board was not only mind-numbingly bland but hard to sterilize. She needed parts for her suit, more antibiotics, and some personal products she wasn't exactly comfortable asking someone else to get.

She decided, hesitantly, to ask Wrex to come with her, but he was gone by the time she got to his usual spot. In fact, most of the crew had swiftly disappeared, except for Joker. She found him slowly making his way to the mess deck, limping badly. He looked like he was in real pain, and she hurried over to him. "Lieutenant Moreau, are you alright?"

Joker gave a weak smile, and managed to stagger to a bench on the mess decks. "Oh, sure. You know, trying to –" he broke off, hissing in pain a second before grunting – "just walk from place to place. How's it going, Tali?"

Tali worried about the young man. The rest of the humans were polite, but somewhat distant. They admired her technical abilities, but no one but Shepard had asked her about her past, background, or family. But Joker seemed to find the quarian fleet endlessly fascinating. He'd made a joke once about how their bodies both had them trapped – hers in her suit, his in crutches – and she had thought about it more than once.

"I'm... fine, I suppose. I need to do some shopping on the Citadel, while I have a chance... but everyone is gone or busy." She tapped her omni-tool, checking her personal cash reserves – almost nothing left of the money her father had given her so long ago when she set out. "But it's... nothing, really."

Joker frowned. "Why not just go by yourself? I mean it's a big place and all, but you have a shotgun." He gave a smirk, and Tali sighed and glanced away.

"The l-last time I was on the Citadel didn't go very well, Jeff. I almost got killed, and the people were... rude."

Joker nodded. "Humans are pretty good at being assholes, but I forgot the other races can also be major downers. I just never got why they're so down on your people, though. The salarians unleashed the damned rachni AND the krogan and no one exiled them from Citadel space."

Tali laughed, eyes widening. "I'm sure they don't see it the same way, Jeff. I've sort of stopped caring what the Citadel races think. While I'm sure lots of aliens are racist, the Normandy has shown me that at least humans can look beyond that. Pressly and Williams clearly aren't big fans of aliens but have been very polite to me." She shrugged. "That doesn't mean I'm comfortable with walking around on a space station where I get accused of being a thief, or worse, by everyone I meet. How about you? Aren't you going on leave?"

Joker nodded. "I was going to go out, but... Alenko vanished on me. So I guess we're both stuck here."

Tali frowned. "Why... would you be stuck here?"

Joker shrugged. "It's hard to walk very far on my legs without breaking something. Alenko would do this trick with his biotics, lighten my weight, allowing me walk more easily. Just enough to get out of the ship, see the sights." He sighed. "Otherwise, I'd need to get my lift chair out and use that. And the only thing more depressing than breaking bones is that thing."

Tali tilted her head, the dim overhead lights catching on the edge of her _reik_, the fabric that covered her headgear glimmering soft purple. "Why is that depressing?"

Joker shrugged angrily. "It...probably sounds stupid. But to me, that chair is just surrender to Vrolik's Syndrome. It's saying 'I'll never get better, so might as well let my body atrophy .' It's saying that I'm willing to give up fighting and walking, even with the pain, just so I move around more. And worst of all, people see a lift chair and they think 'cripple;' and then 'moron'."

Tali nodded absently, then shrugged. "I thought you said you didn't really care about what random strange people thought about you..."

Joker gave her a smirk, green eyes lighting up. "Well, yeah. I mean, most people are morons, and what they know about what I go through is less than Wrex knows about interior decorating. But like you said yourself – just because you don't care doesn't mean you're willing to subject yourself to their prejudices."

Tali nodded. "Maybe I can get someone tomorrow to go out for me... I need some supplies and I don't even know where on the Citadel to get them, anyway."

Joker arched an eyebrow. "Supplies? Why not just order it from the ship?"

Tali twisted her hands together nervously. "W-well, I did put in for more dextro food, but the only stuff the Systems Alliance has on purchase order doesn't sterilize very well. It's nothing big, just... a hassle. I needed some more medications for my suit as well, since most of what Dr. Chakwas has on hand is really for battle and not –" She stopped talking as Joker got an angry look on his face.

"Tali, that doesn't sound like 'nothing'. That sounds like stuff you need to live." He groaned and levered himself to his feet, picking up his crutches and wincing as something inside gave a tiny cracking noise. "I need you to help me to the cargo bay, please." His voice was a bit tight with pain, but he kept a smile plastered on his face.

Tali blinked behind her mask. "W-why?" Her only answer was a pained smirk, and she wrung her hands more.

40 minutes later, after a lot of nervous protests by Tali, she was maneuvering Joker's lift chair along the broad avenues of the Presidium, headed towards a long row of stores near the hanar embassy, a couple of anti-static bags hanging from the back as proof of their most recent purchase. The hover-chair was easily pushed, and Tali realized that no one was really paying her much attention at all. The sight of a quarian as servant must have been what these people expected to see all along. While she was a bit angry at that, her mind was mostly on designs – she was thinking about some kind of powered leg braces to help Joker walk normally, or at least with less pain.

_Maybe a little eezo and some stabilizers would help. I should buy a few more things while I'm here._

Joker, for his part, was still in uniform, tapping on his omni-tool, a sneer on his features. Their first stop, at an electronics store, to pick up replacement shock regulators for her suit, had been both embarrassing and thrilling for her. Embarrassing due to the rude shopkeeper saying he didn't serve quarians, thrilling at the epic roaring rant Joker had subjected the shopkeeper to. She ended up her getting her parts, plus a few other things she'd had her eye on. She had been exposed to kindness, at least at the hands of Dost and Troyce, but Joker was actually infuriated by the salarian's attitude.

The screaming stopped when the shopkeeper finally just decided it was easier to sell the requested items and get the lunatic out of his store than fight, and Joker had thrown it all on his card. Tali felt very guilty about Joker paying for it, and as they walked out of the store, she said so.

Joker snorted, pushing brown hair out of his eyes and gazing over his shoulder at her. "Shepard has a ship's expense account, apparently something for the Spectre stuff she's doing. I really, really doubt a few thousand credits will even bother her, but don't worry, if it does I'll pay for the stuff."

Tali shook her head. "That's even worse, Jeff. I just need a few small things; I don't want to spend all your money!"

Joker fixed her with those bright green eyes of his, laughing, looking almost relaxed. "C'mon, Tali, what am I gonna spend it on? Drinks, music, and that's about it." His expression dimmed, and he gave a small sigh. "Don't take this the wrong way, but this is the first time I've spent money on a woman in about four years. "

Tali gave a small laugh, but she also felt slightly strange. Most of the time she felt the crew looked at her as an alien, not a woman. She tilted her head, trying to read the emotions Joker felt, noticing only that his position was stiffer than usual, almost awkward. She knew that Joker was lonely – even without seeing his posture that was clear – but she'd never really thought about how isolated he was. He spent most of his time either in the pilot's seat, or hobbling back for a meal, or to sleep.

Joker glanced around. "Uh, Tali? Something wrong? You just sorta stopped." Tali shook her head to clear it, she'd been so intent on figuring out his body language she'd literally stopped walking. Glancing around, she saw an easy way to cover her gaffe, and she pointed across the walkway to a store with turian and standard writing.

"Dextro food for turians, survival rations... this what you need?" Joker smiled again, and Tali began pushing the lift chair across the short bridge leading to the place, hoping that this time Joker wouldn't have to start screaming.

Still, she couldn't help but giggle when the first question out of Joker's mouth to the storekeeper was "Hey, there. You guys don't happen to sell a dextro version of Tupari, do you?"

O-OSaBC-O

The situation had turned out more nightmarish than even Shepard's worst fears. She'd spent hours delaying, considering her tactical options. Camouflage, stealth, perhaps even armored assault. Flashbangs, tear gas, or some other distracting secondary assault were also considered. Nothing in the armory would deal with the numbers of the enemy in enough time to prevent being completely overrun. The Normandy itself would only be safe for so long., Eventually the enemy would manage to infiltrate even the C-Sec secured docks it was moored to, perhaps even breaching the ship.

She still hadn't expected the assault to go this badly, this quickly, and this rapidly. She folded her arms, her spine stiff, and turned her gaze on the seemingly endless legions of the enemy before her.

_Reporters_. At least fifty of them, screaming her name, shoving VI-controlled remote cams and drone cams at her.

Protestors. Dozens, here and there, some from Blue Stars No More, some from anti-war groups, even a couple from Northstar. Those were bad. Stiffening their ranks were generic hangers-on, curious civilians, and a handful of scattered asari giving her uncomfortable 'come hither' grins. Shepard repressed a shudder and turned her eyes to the main enemy force.

The fanboys and fangirls had to be the worst, and of course, the most numerous. For some sick, twisted reason her mind couldn't understand, there were a large number of people who felt she was a hero, or worse, that her actions were totally justified. Some were bigots and racists that would shame Terra Firma, others were just consumers of the extranet's garbage reporting. They were dressed appallingly, some in N7 t-shirts, others in bad-mock ups of Marine BDU's, and one complete lunatic in a replica N7 hardsuit. Worse still, there were _actual Marines _in this pack of lunatics, screaming her name just as loudly.

Shepard inhaled deeply, pinned down at the main entrance to C-Sec's docking tower. She finally took a deep breath. "That is _enough. _I am not giving any interviews, speeches, one-on-ones, exclusives, debates, or autographs. I have a very important meeting in fifteen minutes and I cannot afford to be late."

The reporters and protesters didn't even stop, but suddenly her fans grew quieter, then one of them shouted. "Make a hole for the Commander!"

Shepard watched in a mix of bemused amazement and a twinge of absolute confusion as a path somehow made itself through the surging crowds. Reporters struggled with screaming girls dressed up in mock N7 armor, while a Blue Stars No More protester was thrown to the ground and screamed at by what looked like off-duty Marines…

Part of her almost intervened – sure, the idiot probably deserved it, but Marines should have more .. politeness? Tact? She sighed to herself, just pushing past them all in a rush, angry at herself for causing the whole mess indirectly.

The edges of the crowd were frayed and the taxi stand was only a few feet away. Not bothering to count her blessings, she took advantage of the situation, walking as fast as she could to the public transit. Her fans reached out, some screaming her name, others just brushing her shoulders or arms with their fingertips. By the time she was through the crowd she was literally shuddering, and plunged into the first open public transit car without even looking.

The canopy shut, sealing away the noise and smells of the crowd, and Shepard closed her eyes for a long moment before a voice startled her. "Uh... this is my taxi."

Shepard whipped around to see a smiling young woman in a plain dress sitting in the back with a deactivated camera drone. Her vaguely Chinese features were set in a narrow face, dark black eyes framed by short black hair. A look of recognition spread across her face and she smiled wider. " I'm Emily Wong, Alliance News."

Shepard just closed her eyes. _And now you know for a fact – God hates you when he puts a reporter in your escape vehicle. _"Sorry, trying to get away from the pack of…" She waved a hand at the crowd, which was coming apart, some moving in the direction of the cab. "I know you already paid for the fare, but uh –"

Wong chuckled. "I had. I've just been sorting reports. I'm not really involved with... uh, that out there. I have an appointment I need to get to, but I tell you what – if you promise me you'll chat with me sometime in the next few weeks, I'll tell the cab to head wherever you want."

Shepard eyed her, raising an eyebrow. "Not demanding an interview immediately? You're my new favorite reporter. I need to see Ambassador Udina."

Wong nodded, and tilted her head, her pleasant expression showing amusement. "How… convenient. So am I. Taxi: Citadel Tower, level 16, Human Embassies." The vehicle lifted from the ground, and Wong turned back to Shepard. "I have an interview with him at 12:00."

Shepard nodded. Her own appointment was at 11:40, she supposed he figured it would be fairly quick. "Thanks for the lift." She glanced back out the window at the rapidly receding docks. "Christ on a sidecar, that was a lot of…" She just shook her head in bemusement. "How did they even know where to go?"

Wong giggled. "Your crew was pretty tight lipped, but one of the admirals – Mikhailovich – got pinned down by a reporter after he left the ship and let it slip you were still on board. They've been camped out there for _hours_. I spent about 20 minutes waiting and figured you weren't coming out, so I got in the back of the cab. I was just finishing a verbal segment when you just sort of… materialized. "

Shepard gave a thin smile, leaning back into the seat. "I... am not really comfortable with reporters, ma'am." She wasn't facing the woman anymore, but she heard Emily give a loud laugh.

"Is that because we take everything you say out of context, pair you with any single man or woman and claim you are dating, or because we write up horrible, completely untrue stories about your past exploits? Trust me, I don't like the way news services have gone the past fifteen years either, and the Alliance does not let you report for them unless you keep it to the facts."

The car swerved, angling up towards the Citadel, and Shepard nodded. "I just...am not really comfortable in front of the camera, I suppose. I worry some lunatic is going to try to smear me and make me look worse than I already am, and that I'll do something stupid, like punch them. Then there would be a boring, long hearing and summary justice panel, and I'd have to do community service or eat bread and water until the krogan start writing poetry or something."

The reporter dissolved into laughter, eyes crinkling. "Well, there's more than a few reporters that probably need to be punched, Commander. But I assure you: at least some of us try to understand the stresses our military goes through. I can't imagine what you've had to endure, and it would be insulting for me to assume I could. I can still treat you like a person, and listen to your story without interjecting gossip, frivolity or just flat out character assassination, though. Ratings are important, but I always felt good ratings have to come from good news, not... GTMZ-style paparazzi garbage."

The aircar leveled out, hovering above a landing platform before settling down, and Shepard clambered out, nodding as she did so. "That's... unusual for reporters. "

Wong only smiled, stepping out as well, her dress making a slight crackle as her omni-tool applied a static discharge routine that left it clinging to her outline. "Well, reporters are always angling for the big scoop, but my father and grandfather were both reporters, and so were some of my ancestors. I have this silly thing about reporting actual news and serving the public, rather than feeding gossip vlogs and YouVid sensationalist videos."

The entrance to the Embassy was tucked into a low tunnel, surrounded by scenic balconies and planters of various Earth plants, such as roses, honeysuckle and bushes. A broad, low counter, manned by stiff looking Systems Alliance public relations staff, handled small lines of people with inquires – most human, but a couple of asari and a hanar stood out. Two grim looking men in heavy Onyx armor armed with Avengers stood on either side of the entryway.

Wong smiled again. "I'll wait out here. Good luck, Shepard."

Shepard returned the smile. "Thanks. For the ride and not ambushing me with your camera." She turned away from the news reporter, walking past the two guards, neither of which even gave her a glance. The hallway beyond was dimly lit, narrow, with small doors on either side. At the far end of the hallway was a small desk with a bored looking volus, a haptic sign overhead read "Volus and Elcor Embassy, level 17."

She ignored it, heading to the door clearly labeled "Donnel Udina", and it slid open, revealing the same wide open room with a view where she'd started her journey. . Udina sat at his desk, hands moving blocks of information across a haptic day-planner that spanned a quarter of the desk space, the vid-screens behind him displaying news channels and a football game.

The ambassador looked up as she entered, his dark-blue suit trimmed in pale ivory panels with a wavy pattern to them. His narrow face was almost blank as he nodded. "Shepard, I thought you might be late, I saw that circus at the docks. Typical C-Sec uselessness. Your punctuality is appreciated. "

Shepard merely squared her shoulders. "Reporting as requested, sir."

Udina sighed, and clicked off his vid-comm. "I'm not a military officer, Shepard. Sit down. We have things to discuss before you head out after Saren again." His voice took on a sharper note. "I presume that the Systems Alliance passed along my message regarding the Council's interest in Feros?"

She sat, lips twisting. "Yes, the Fleet Master and Chief of R&D, as well as my squadron CO, came down to let me know what I a stupid little girl I am, and how everything I do needs to be passed back through Alliance Command for review and approval." She narrowed her eyes at him, about to speak, but even she could decipher the expression of shock on his face.

"They did _what? _Ignorant, chest-beating, blind fools! Don't they – of course they don't, the hidebound idiots." Udina cradled his head in his hands, shaking it as he did so. "Oh, Anita, I should have listened to you and never taken this fool's errand of a job."

Shepard's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Sir?"

Udina gave a small, bitter laugh and looked up. "Shepard, my intent was to pass a note suggesting we have a talk today, about ways to break news to the Council that may be harmful to SA interests without causing political issues. And to hand you a couple of assignments, both in the interests of the SA, to let you test the waters in using your Spectre authority. Apparently, the SA military decided to take matters into their own hands and have a conversation with you, to make you buckle to their authority."

Udina shot a disgusted look at his day planner. "The stupid part of all of this is that it is illegal for the SA to interfere in your Spectre investigation – even _trying _is grounds for economic embargoes, or worse! But given your expression they managed to alienate you as well."

Shepard rubbed her shoulder, not sure how to respond to that. "Fleet Master Dragunov made statements to the effect that I was causing 'political damage'."

Udina rolled his eyes, his craggy face twisting into a wry expression. "Shepard, I don't really like your methods, and I am not a fan of your mouth, but as you showed in getting the Council to reverse course on Saren, you aren't stupid, or a fool. The whole point of having Anderson and I here managing this debacle is to mitigate the inevitable political damage you're going to cause. As much as I dislike admitting it, those fools at Arcturus are more concerned about political damage _back home_ than they are about the future of our race, or how dangerous Saren could be."

Shepard leaned back, thinking. "You said they can't interfere with my investigation. What does that mean? I mean, I know Spectres are 'above the law' and all that garbage, but I'm not really a Spectre yet. The meeting we had with the Council, you told them my candidacy was on trial, a sort of test run, and it wasn't final until we caught Saren."

Udina exhaled sharply. "A polite piece of fiction, thrown out by me to sweeten a deal the Council already wanted. Citadel Law is clear. If they induct you into the office, your Spectre duties supersede any other authority. You can't be ordered against your own military, and you have to follow all orders said military gives you, unless those orders directly contradict your Spectre duties. Dragunov wants someone with Spectre powers to clean up dirty laundry of the SA."

Shepard nodded, slowly. "And where do you stand?"

Udina gave her a sharp, measuring look. "I want a seat on the Council. That will give me a great deal of personal power to counteract some of the more ridiculous things the SA has been up to in the past five years. But more than that, I want to be able to see my wife and not have to worry about some insane turian blowing my planet out from under me."

He shrugged, eyes flickering over his schedule. "I am not a man many people like. Politics is dirty, it is about compromises on things that, perhaps, are best left direct, and it is about playing games that end up getting people killed. But I am not about to delegate that to anyone else, who may or may not have the right intentions at heart."

Shepard thought about that a long moment. "So how do I avoid political mistakes? We were never given political training in the SAMC; we're just told to defer to the Z-rates or the commissars."

Udina nodded, folding his hands on his desktop. "It isn't as simple as reading a book, or memorizing procedures, Shepard. Your reviews and reports mention you don't seem to connect to other people very well, and that's a problem for you. You have to be able to determine intent. For example, I'm being polite; whereas the last time we met I believe I was rather sharp with you. Why is that?"

Shepard spent several seconds thinking. "You want me to side with you, rather than with the SA military?"

Udina's smile was patronizing. "No. Although, honestly, that's not a bad answer. But you've devoted yourself to the military, using it as a model of how you should behave, and in any fight between that loyalty and me, I would lose. No, I am being polite because I have no reason to believe being rude or angry will get anywhere with you."

The smile narrowed, becoming speculative, the long hard lines of his face settling into something like reflection. "I've seen now, having had time to review your history, how you react to people who challenge your will or directions. You are a natural leader, but not a _good_ leader. You lead from the front, but never train others how to lead themselves. You push people as if they are as good as you, and then are surprised when they cannot measure up." Udina frowned. "You avoid political mistakes by asking yourself 'what do I get out of saying X versus saying Y."

Shepard instinctively disliked his answer, even his tone. "Sir, I don't lie very well. I'm not any good at reading expressions, unless they're pretty firm, and I don't do subtle. How am I supposed to do what you said?"

Udina folded his arms. "Ideally? Follow the SA model. Every fleet has it's leading miltiary figure in command, but it also has it's assigned political commissar, to ensure that the admirals don't blunder and keep them focused on their goals. Find a member of your crew who grasps politics. Someone you can reach out to, but who is aware of the more subtle nuances of how to turn a phrase."

Shepard rubbed her chin. "Honestly, I don't think I have anyone like that on my crew. Most of them are , well, just soldiers, or aliens, which won't help. I was thinking maybe I should make nice with a reporter or something, give a few interviews. I rode over here with Emily Wong. She seemed... nice."

Udina gave a great laugh at that, standing up to put away a datapad in a narrow file case on the wall. "Wong is an idealist, an innocent who still believes in the good of all people. She'd be good to do an interview with – one reason I am interviewing with her – as she doesn't go after people to break them down. She'd be useful, I suppose, in that light. Your problems go further than just your public image, however."

Shepard frowned. "Sir?"

Udina was flipping through the file case, looking for something. "The problem is not that you are incapable of handling the politics, you merely have neither the experience to do so nor the time to learn. A crew member who could handle it for you would be best, but even someone doing public relations for you is helpful. What you need is to get a handle on what is likely to cause you problems in the first place. In seeing the unseen tides that cause things like admirals to come and lambast you."

Shepard shrugged in her seat. "I admit that, sir. I never really thought much about how Feros would affect things back home. The Fleet Master said there were elements on Earth wanting to shut down the Saren investigation... that it made sense that Cerberus was helping Saren. What don't I know about?"

Udina's voice was flat. "Lots and nothing you really want to find out about, Commander. Cerberus is an old Alliance black-op gone very wrong. But it's not the only black-op to foul up its tracks, so why was it so capable of eluding discovery and shutdown after 25 years? The Fleet Master is a paranoid man, but his suspicions are dead on. It's very possible Cerberus is siding with Saren to destabilize the Systems Alliance internally, and ally with those who'd gain from such a thing."

Shepard threw up her hands. "What kind of lunatics would gain from that pointy-faced fuck blowing up a bunch of innocent people?"

Udina glanced over his shoulder at her, a bitter smile on his face. "There are people on Earth who stand to profit by colonies being destroyed by geth, and who figure the big losers in any intergalactic war will be the alien species. The turians are a known value, and Saren won't hit them, but the salarians and asari are a different matter. They figure if Saren goes after the salarians and asari, humans will benefit from the aftermath. Worse, there are probably at least a few who hope Saren's attacks will cause the government to collapse, leading to a new political coalition moving the Systems Alliance down a different path."

He pulled out three data pads from the file case, sliding it shut and returning to his seat. "You'll find, sadly, that people have stupid and unrealistic understandings of military danger when they sit in well-appointed offices all day, much like I do. The difference is that I am not fool enough to think I have some kind of grasp on how dangerous Saren is. I leave that to you."

He pushed the pads towards her. "These are a series of notes and guides on human political behavior that were written up 20 years ago, by a human sociologist. They were used to teach aliens how to understand and grasp some concepts of human nuance. I doubt they'll do a lot of good – like I said, this isn't an art that you can learn by reading a book – but I want you to read all of them carefully. They are very... cynical. Very slanted and, in their own day, very dangerous. There's a reason they're on lock-down in my office."

Udina tapped his haptic keyboard. "As to the rest, I have two minor tasks for you to complete. As I said, the other half of this meeting was to have you handle a few things for my office. You'll find that the words 'Spectre authority' will overcome almost all objections. As a result, I think you should be able to use it a few times , for practice, before having to do the 'real thing' so to speak."

He tapped a control on his desk, bringing up scrolling texts, and pictures of an alien sky. "First, I have a request from Admiral Hackett, Fifth Fleet. Your old commanding officer, Major Kyle, resigned his commission right after you were tapped for the Spectre program. We're having some difficulties in contacting him, he's joined or leading some kind of biotic cult on a remote planet in the Verge. I'd like for you to see if you can reach him, and make him retract a couple of , well, extreme statements he's made about the SA in recent days."

Shepard, still holding the pads awkwardly, frowned. "Sir, the last person Kyle wants to see is the woman who got his sons killed."

Udina shrugged. "The SA wants to send an armed response team in after him. They won't tell me why. Hackett thought you might want to help him if possible, and, if not, at least make sure a pack of RIU goons don't kill him in his sleep." Udina shrugged. "The other matter is some kind of colonialist mess. There's an issue with some of the dead from Eden Prime not being released to the next of kin. I've had over fifty people in my office complaining about it, but unfortunately my hands are tied. The military won't listen to my complaints about how this looks, and Rear Admiral Vandefar already told me the bodies were not going to be released anytime soon. So, I'd like you to clear it up. The man in charge of the detail is Subaltern Bosker. He's in the SA adjunct lounge down the hall."

Shepard nodded, albeit in a confused way. "Anything else?"

Udina shook his head. "Whatever those fools of the Admiralty Board told you, don't waste too much time on it. Find Saren, find whatever he's doing, and stop it. We can patch the political damage later. Besides, if I don't miss my mark, you never really wanted to be a Spectre in the first place, did you?"

Shepard shook her head firmly. "It seems like a bad fit for someone who has my kind of history, no?"

Udina paused. "I raised that concern. Anderson disagrees. He's very supportive of you, no matter what it is you do. I find myself disliking much of the SA military. Too full of itself, too much machismo bullshit. But he is an admirable man, even patient with political maneuvering." Shaking his head, he glanced at the clock. "I've authorized another requisition supply amount for the Normandy, plus whatever discretionary funds the Spectre's have. Anderson also had me put in requests for support ships, fighters, even more Marines, but all were denied."

Shepard sighed and stood. "Typical. If that's all, sir, I'll get on the task you had for me. And thank you for confiding in me." She lifted the pads. "Maybe this will help."

Udina merely nodded. "You and I will not see eye to eye on many things, Shepard. But my own career is now tied to yours... and strangely, you are not the blood-thirsty maniac the vids paint you as. I will form my own opinions and treat you accordingly, but we're still on the same side." He paused, as if looking for something else to say, then gave her a weak, professional smile. "Good day, Commander."


	59. Chapter 51: Pressly, Abandoned

**A/N: **_ Arrgh. I finish one piece of fluff and more pops into my mind. Someone stop me before I fluff again! _

* * *

Garrus nervously adjusted his tunic for the third time as he waited for Telanya to come back from the little kitchenette in her small apartment. His eyes tracked across the living room, pictures of Thessia on the wall, a selection of C-Sec commendations framed on a glass hutch, low armless sofas adorned with tarn-wool throws and pillows dominating the room, along with a miniature flame-tree in a brass pot by the door.

Telanya returned, smiling as she set down a wooden tray that held two cups of nelayna tea steaming with a faint minty smell. One of the few drinks that both chiralities could handle with no issues, nelayna was a common brew among C-sec officers on the late night shifts, and Garrus was very partial to it himself. "Thanks, Tel."

She settled into the couch next to him, folding her limber legs under her and leaning against him. "No need to thank me, Garrus. I'm just glad you're back, even if only for a day or two. Did you at least think about what I said in my message?"

Telanya was beautiful, even among asari, with huge, dark grey-blue eyes framed by pale purple flesh. Bold grey markings decorated above and below each eye, while full lips pouted teasingly. Her muscular frame was set off by long legs and a graceful waist that make Garrus twitch just thinking about it.

Yet despite her beauty, Telanya was not a typical asari. A narrow escape early in her life, from an asari serial killer, had sent Tel fleeing from asari culture entirely, not even socializing with other asari. She'd thrown herself into relationship after relationship with turians, salarians, krogan, humans, elcor, hanar – even a vorcha. Almost legendary for her ridiculous flirtations and equally rapid abandonment, her campaign to seduce Garrus had been derailed abruptly when the same twisted asari that had almost killed her showed up on the Citadel.

It had been Garrus who took her out, against direct orders. Tracking her single-handed, Garrus had managed to bring the crazed asari down just before she could execute Telanya. Afterward, he had carried Tel, bleeding and wounded, to the hospital.

Garrus had covered the fact that Telanya had tried to stop her assailant herself, making it look like it was his normal hotheaded ways that lead to the mess, and it had cost Garrus a chance to move from Special Investigations in to Exterior Affairs, where he could hunt slavers and criminals with less red tape. Tel knew what that meant to him, and her flirting stopped at that point.

Garrus wasn't sure if she was appreciative or if having a second near-death experience had merely shaken her all the way down to her foundations. . When he'd told her, the day of his departure, of how he planned to follow Shepard to pursue Saren, she'd been distraught, pleading with him not to go, before burying him in a tear-filled embrace that led to almost desperate sex.

Now she looked calm enough, leaning against him, but he could feel the tension in her body, and the rapid sound of her heartbeat worried him. "Tel," he mumbled, letting the harmonics of his voice vibrate across the room soothingly, "I know you were worried. And yes I did think very hard on what you said. I know that it probably sounds crazy, doing what I'm doing."

Telanya snorted, her lips sinking into a frown. "Garrus, you could have been killed! I saw the CIN reports, the vids. Half the Fourth Fleet was wiped, and you were less than a dozen light seconds from the whole thing. I know how much stopping someone like Saren means to you, but you aren't a... a soldier."

Garrus gave a weak laugh. "I used to be. I'm the best at what I do." He lifted a hand and turned her head to face him, gently placing his forehead against hers. "I'm not a kirix, Tel. I have no intention of trying to take Saren in claw-to-claw combat, over a rope bridge on top of a volcano. But if I don't do this, what am I supposed to do?"

Telanya gave him a hurt look. "I suppose just living and being a police officer is not enough for you?"

Garrus growled. "That's not fair and you know it. You think I _like _leaving you here, not knowing if some other spirits-damned lunatic is going to try to cut you up? Or some goon is going to get the drop on you and whoever responds to the call won't be fast enough with backup?" He glanced away. "If I could, I'd try to talk Shepard into letting you come on board." He picked up the tea, drinking it slowly, feeling the warmth of the mix, inhaling it's myriad smells and letting it's subtle taste sink into his suddenly dry throat.

Telanya shook her head slowly. "I don't have the skills for that. I'd just be in the way." Her jaw tightened. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. Doesn't mean _you_ have to be the one doing this. Let them send a cabalist, or one of the Special Response guys that are all cybered to hell and back. Let them send a member of Blackwatch."

Garrus licked the tip of her nose with his tongue, smirking. "None of them have my charm, dear heart." He rose, setting his cup down, and walking to the window, overlooking the Presidium. Despite himself, his heart still soared at the sight, rank upon rank of edifices in gleaming white, pure sky, crystal clear waters framed by endless greens. He traced his claws against the glass, mandible flickering. "It's not like I expected. Humans are... so bizarre. But the real truth is that this is a crime, Tel."

He turned back to face her, eyes intense. "Saren can't be allowed to get away. And someone needs to make sure he is stopped , for the Turian Hierarchy and for C-Sec. And if that costs me my life..."

Telanya's voice was bitter. "Oh, of course, the turian dies heroically for the doomed cause. What about me, Garrus? Did you forget about what you told me back then? That you were tired of being alone, and I was tired of running?"

Garrus shook his head. "No, I didn't." His harmonics wavered. "Don't make this hard on me, please, Tel. I need... to see this through."

She stared a long minute, but then nodded. "But if I... ask, you would stay." She closed her eyes at the pained, hesitant nod he gave, leaning back against the couch for a long moment. "Goddessdamn you."

With a weak pulse of biotics she hurled a pillow across the room, and put her face into her hands. "If I made you stay, you'd end up hating me."

Garrus crossed the room, picking her up by her wrists to hold her against him. "No. I wouldn't. But I would hate myself. Like I said, Tel... I know what you feel. I felt it when we melded. I see it in the tears and the words you don't say. But after this, I'm done. Done completely. I'll have proven... heh, everything I need to prove to everyone who matters." He dipped his head a little, his hand teasing her chin up so she would look him in the eyes. "Except to you. And I'll prove myself to you then."

Telanya sighed, leaning her head against the cool curve of his chest, feeling the thump of his heart as she closed her eyes. "You'd better, dammit. I'm... I'm tired of crying myself to sleep. Tired of waking up alone and wondering if you're dead. I know other people have to put up with it but I –"

"Shhh." Garrus held her a bit more tightly, tracing a delicate hand over her crest. "No sleeping alone tonight."

O-OSaBC-O

Kaidan's head felt as if someone had split it open with an axe, stuffed it full of a mix of cotton and steel wool, and then sloppily nailed it shut . He came to in small bursts of nausea and pain, head literally throbbing with aching pressure, and realized only belatedly that something was wrong.

Several things, actually.

He didn't recognize the room, but it looked rather expensive, as he could see the Presidium gleaming faintly through a polarized window framed by silken curtains. The ceiling was wood-paneled, with delicate filigree along the seams with the walls, which were done in equally tasteful pale-tinted metals and fabrics.

He was tangled in a pile of sheets that were slightly torn and fouled with vomit , which was disgusting. He was also tangled with Ashley Williams, naked and pressed up against him, and there was enough dried semen flung around to make him realize this wasn't some prank the crew had pulled.

A bar was visible out of the corner of his eye, most of the bottles depleted. Ash herself was cradled almost protectively in his arms, snuggled up against him, her thigh a hot bolt of pressure up against his manhood, her hair in his face, filling his nostrils with the scent of beer and perfume at once. She was still deeply asleep.

Kaidan didn't know if his legs would work, at least one was up on the bed to his left, and his right hand was numb. Grunting in pain, he managed to disentangle himself from the sheets and Ash, noting with mortification he was as stiff as a rod, and glanced around more fully.

The room was, indeed, very expensive with a lavish wide bed. Their clothes were hurled everywhere around it. Lying on the ottoman at the foot of the bed was his omni-tool clip, flashing green to show he had incoming messages.

He sighed, and scooped Ashley up off the floor. Noting the sordid condition of the bed, he instead settled her naked form on the nearby leather couch, trying not to rake his eyes over the pale expanse of her curvy flesh. Memories flashed back at him from last night in bits and pieces – primal, almost crazed fucking, screaming, howling.

_Well, Alenko, there's fraternizin' and then there's just flat out losing it. Maybe Dad was right, being a civilian biotic instructor probably isn't that bad._

"M'god, my head." Ashley moaned piteously before her eyes opened, and after a few seconds she just closed them again. "LT?"

Kaidan's voice was scratchy and tired. "Yes, Chief?"

"Kinda torn between panicking and asking for another, sir."

Kaidan couldn't help it, he burst out laughing, a mix of terror, glee, and disbelief shattering whatever emotional calm he'd built up since awakening. "Probably a bad idea, Ash, but..." He picked up his omni-tool, and immediately it displayed three messages.

The first was an alert from the Hotel, saying his account had been depleted and charges were being routed to the secondary account listed – namely, the Normandy. "Oh, god."

The second message was from the Normandy's computers, a manual authorization for fourteen thousand, eleven hundred and three credits, signed, Commander Sara Y. Shepard, SAMC. "Oh, fucking god."

The third message was even shorter. "Stop panicking and call when you wake up. PS. Please have pants on."

Kaidan could literally feel his headache take on physical form and start swinging a big hammer inside his skull, giggling as it did so. He sat down bonelessly on the bed, and Ash managed to slowly come to a sitting position on the couch.

For a moment the two of them just stared at each other, before her expression wavered into a sour grin. "Well, if I have to get court martialed at least it was totally goddamned worth it."

Kaidan flushed, glancing away, and then looked around for his pants and underwear. The next five minutes were awesomely awkward and confusing, neither one exactly sure how to react. That ended with the pinging from his omni-tool, which Kaidan answered with a grimace. "Alenko."

Shepard's voice was cool and flat. "Lieutenant. Good of you to pick up. I trust you had an eventful night?"

Kaidan just sort of croaked, a sound that wasn't quite an affirmative and wasn't quite choking. "Ye – I mean, I'm – that is, we're ready to report in, ma'am."

Shepard gave a small laugh. "Fucking relax, Alenko. I've done a lot worse than that and I know how it feels. I seem to have lost the receipt for your night out, so do me a favor and try not to repeat this in public again. Shore leave is extended for at least another 24 hours. Report back to the ship 0600 Friday and meet me for… a little discussion."

Alenko swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

Shepard's voice rose. "You there, Chief? Your omni-tool is, at least."

Ash's eyes widened and she went pale. "Y-yes ma'am..."

Shepard was silent for a second, then her voice sounded, almost amused. "He any good?"

Kaidan choked again, eyes bulging. Ash, for her part, coughed and cleared her throat. "I've always said it was a great pleasure to serve under the LT, ma'am."

_They're joking about it. Shepard doesn't joke. Am I dreaming, or has the stress just driven me completely mad? _

Shepard's laughter rang out, clear and calm. "Good one, Chief. Get your asses cleaned up and don't mention this shit to anyone. I've already had six other reports of inappropriate fraternization, and I've just stopped giving a shit. If the High Admiralty decides the first thing they need to do is rip my ass for following the rules, then I guess the rules don't need to be followed. Shepard out."

The omni-tool went dark, and Kaidan just stared at it dumbly. Ash pulled her shirt back on, roughly pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail, and gave him a playful shove. "Cheer up. She's not angry at us and we aren't going to be kicked out of the Marines."

Kaidan groaned. "That's even worse, now I have to live in fear of her telling Joker and never hearing the end of it." Still, he smothered a self-satisfied grin, and turned to face her. "I… things kinda got out of hand last night –"

Williams glanced around the room, particularly the bed, and snorted.

"– but I don't want you to think this was just me getting my rocks off … I mean, this wasn't just me being…"

Ash took two quick steps and kissed him, grinning. "You are the most inarticulate lover I've ever had, sir. She said to get moving, and I need a shower and a coffee and YOU are coming with me." She pulled him to his feet, and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Yes ma'am."

O-OSaBC-O

Shepard snorted, a smile flickering across her face as she ended the conversation with Alenko. The night had passed in a mess for her – she had spent most of her time at the Spectre HQ, getting fitted for new armor and upgrading weapons, and the rest was spent fitfully sleeping.

Her omni-tool had woken her up multiple times in the night, and after Friggs had been picked up with one of the ops ensigns buck-ass naked in an elevator, Shepard had given up, switching off her omnitool. The mission they'd survived was simply too much for a freshly assembled crew. They had gone from Eden Prime to a mess on Therum to the horror of the volus ship and finally to Feros, and she felt they had earned the right to nearly fall apart.

Cracking down wouldn't change much, and frankly, she felt like a hypocrite to even think about that, given that her own fraternization so long ago had caused so many deaths on Torfan. Part of her wondered if she would have stopped if she'd been caught back then, but she knew better.

She exited her quarters, and was surprised to see Pressly sitting in the mess , two heavy suitcases on the deck next to him and his face in his hands. She nervously came up behind him, making noise as she did so, and he looked up at her, his face a study in misery. "Commander."

Shepard sat down next to him. "Pressly, what's wrong?"

The big man smiled, a smile full of fatigue and loss and pain. It warped the angles of his face, making his already sad eyes pools of brown agony. "I got home last night to find out that my wife is divorcing me. She's tired of being a military wife and … after the mess on Feros, tired of wondering if I'll come home at all. We argued about it and then she threw me out and called C-sec." He sighed. "I'll... be alright ma'am. Just hard to adjust. "

Shepard was appalled, both at the timing and the sheer idiocy of his wife. What kind of woman would toss her husband out just after something as harrowing as what he'd been through, and blame him for it? She balled her fist, then sighed in disgust. "I'm sorry, Pressly. Sorry that you have to go through this now and… that she's so... stupid."

Pressly's tired smile widened a flicker at that, but he shrugged his shoulders, the clothing he wore wrinkled and clearly unchanged from yesterday. "Part of me doesn't blame her. Going to war as a single man was easy. Leaving behind your wife, letting her wonder if you're being faithful, if you're dead, if you're hurt and abandoned... it's hard on her, as well. I just wish she'd talked about it before now."

Pressly shook his head and squared his shoulders. "It's not going to affect my ability to perform, ma'am. "

Shepard made a half-angry slash with her hand. "You think I give a shit about that? Pressly, you've always been on top of everything, from the moment I hopped on board. You're a natural leader and better organized than I am. I'm not a people person but even I know you don't get over a divorce overnight and are suddenly 'all better'. If you need time, take it."

_I hope that is what you say in a situation like this.. Jesus , what a bitch of a wife!_

Pressly again shook his head, standing and picking up his bags. "I'll need a few hours to place my stuff, but honestly… work, right now, is the best outlet for what I feel. I should feel devastated, but a part of me is relieved that her divorcing me is so unfair. I haven't felt like a good husband for a long time...maybe this is better than years of bitter, futile silences with the same result a decade down the line." He exhaled. "I appreciate the concern, Commander."

Without another word he walked towards the little niche that was the XO's stateroom, and Shepard shrugged helplessly. She sighed, standing, and then saw Liara come out of the medbay, intent on something on a datapad.

"Reading something interesting, Liara?"

Liara gave a start, and then smiled weakly. "I-I was just reviewing my findings on Feros again. Did you get the armor measurements?"

Shepard smiled. "Yes, I did. That was very good work. Already sent them off, the suits will be ready when we get back from Eingana."

Liara blinked. "We… are going to Eingana? You think my idea has merit?"

Shepard rubbed her chin and pointed with her free hand to a seat. Liara meekly sat, blue eyes fixed on Shepard, who gave a tiny little smile. "We don't have any leads on Saren, and we can't be sure he's alive or dead. I've got a plan to flush him out if he's alive, but it will take time and some hard work to get us there, and honestly, the crew needs to be built up."

Liara frowned. "I am afraid I do not follow. Built up?"

Shepard nodded. "Feros almost got us all killed. We weren't ready; we went in thinking we were going to save colonists and ended up in medical beds. Five minutes either way and that dreadnaught would have flashed us to atoms. The crew, well, they are taking it kind of rough. My omni-tool is full of arrest reports, wild orgies, and Lord knows what else."

Shepard paused, tracing a finger across the gleaming metal surface of the mess decks table. "We need time to come together as a coherent fighting unit. And I need to figure out how to use everyone's skills. Garrus and Ash are great snipers and soldiers, but headstrong. Wrex is all around excellent in battle, but weak technically. Tali is a kid, basically, and while she's vicious with that shotgun and an excellent tech, one shot through her suit and she's in serious trouble."

Shepard smiled. "The ugly truth is the best people I got are you and Alenko, and neither of you are hardened soldiers. Alenko was basically a medic and tech, and you're a scientist, but he went through Eden Prime like a pro, and you stood up to a geth armature and your mother." Shepard's expression was one of amusement, but the serious nature of what she was saying could been read in her eyes.

Liara's eyes flickered away, flushing from the totally unexpected praise. "I . . . did not expect you to find my contribution that valuable. I have felt, like I said, as if I was not – what is the metaphor – pushing my weight?"

Shepard's mouth quirked. "Pulling your weight. And honestly, that's my call to make, not yours to worry about. I have to come up with a way to make sure we are ready the next time the call comes in, and part of that is no more fucking about in paper-thin armor and with crap guns. So if we have the time to burn, researching Eingana sounds like a good idea to me."

Liara nodded, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. "I did not bring much of my analysis and excavation equipment with me. I should replace the broad-band scanner and codices of spectrographs..." Liara pulled up her omnitool, typing rapidly, sending screens of data scrolling by, and Shepard watched, bemused, before standing.

"Looks like you have some shopping to do, Liara. I'll let you focus." Shepard turned to go, when Liara stood abruptly.

"W-wait! I am sorry, Shepard, I did not mean to ignore you... and I am not very familiar with the Citadel. It is just that I never expected to be put in charge of an actual excavation without someone exhorting me to find weapons or –"

Shepard held up a hand. "I know, remember?" Liara flushed, stammering out some kind of apology. Shepard just sighed. "It's alright. Anyway, I'm not sure you want me guiding you around the Citadel anyway. I'm not that familiar with it, and the amount of people camped out who want to see me or interrogate me or interview me passed 2,000 a few hours ago. I'm not stepping out into that circus unless I have to."

Liara frowned. "You have people wanting to see you?"

Shepard explained about the crowds of reporters and fans, and Liara's expression grew slightly amused. "I forget you dislike your fame. As Benezia's daughter, there was a time where I was also hounded incessantly by people seeking an introduction or business deals. I had to find ways to avoid that, and in time I became... very skilled at eluding those who wished to follow me."

Shepard grunted. "Neat trick."

Liara smiled. "If you walk out dressed in your uniform and with your usual walk, of course people will see you. But I think I have an idea." The asari gave a shy smile. "If, that is, you wanted to get out and see the Citadel, maybe help me find some of the things on my list, rather than sit on the ship?"

Shepard chewed her lip. She'd exhausted all the work she could do onboard, and with Pressly back aboard and looking for work the chances of burying herself in reports was nil. She had intended to visit the gift shop to look for model ships, but had never found the time, and truth be told, she wanted a drink, very badly.

"Alright, T'Soni... but this had better work."

20 minutes later, Shepard muttered under her breath. "This is not going to work."

The asari had finally shed her University of Serrice uniform for a shorter, pale white and silver panel dress, split down one leg, revealing a long expanse of blue. A thin silver chain accented her waist, and her shoes were white with high, curved heels. Liara carried a slender metal briefcase in her free hand, walking elegantly down the long hallway leading out of the C-Sec docking area, coolly appraising the crowds of people that, thankfully, had thinned a great deal in the past hours.

Shepard was instead clad in one of Liara's spare University of Serrice outfits, over which she wore a lab coat, and a garrison cap. Her eyes were covered by clear goggles and her mouth by the medical mask she wore. Her hands operated the lift-cart on which she carried several boxes and crates – ostensibly supplies, but all actually empty – and she forced herself to walk slowly and plainly, staggering her steps every few feet.

The crowd ignored her entirely, focused on the elegant asari maiden walking past with her face set in a blank, cold expression. She didn't even pause to acknowledge the few wolf-whistles that went her way, and the whispers from the small number of asari in the crowd quickly spread.

With an elegance that belied the slight shaking of her hands that Shepard could now see, Liara keyed a nearby taxi, and gestured for Shepard to load the boxes in while she sat in the front seat. Shepard did so quickly, biting her lip behind the mask, but the crowd's attention was fixed once again on the C-Sec entrance. With a sigh of relief, Shepard entered the taxi, and it shut behind her, sealing them in. With a grunt, Shepard flung the mask and cap off, leaving her hair slightly mussed and out of place.

"...that was a bit intimidating. I thought you were exaggerating about the number of people outside, Shepard." Liara's voice was shaken, quieter than usual, and Shepard gave a weak shrug.

"Pack of goddamned lunatics. Anyway, before we do shit else, I need a drink. Key this thing for Flux."

Liara did so, frowning. "I assume Flux is a nightclub?" The aircar beeped obediently, slowly rising into the air and angling away from the docks.

Shepard nodded. "Wrex will be there. Maybe Alenko and Williams." She smothered a grin. "Or maybe not, all things considered. Anyway it's quiet enough I won't get hassled when I get out of this too-tight thing you have me in."

Liara frowned. "They are very comfortable uniforms, resistant to dirt and –"

Shepard snickered. "They're also so tight I can see my damned belly button. Sorry, that's why I had to grab the lab coat, this thing is about as close as you can get to being both clothed and naked at the same time."

Liara gave a small smile, but she did notice in the reflection of the front window that Shepard had a point, the green and white fabric clung to every single curve of Shepard's body in a scandalous manner that left almost nothing to the imagination... and revealed that Shepard was both very well defined in her muscularity, and very, very feminine.

Liara coughed, and focused her gaze on the control panel of the taxi. "Yes, well, the matriarchs say our bodies are but tools for the use of our will... I suppose the University of Serrice feels that researchers are likely to win more arguments if they are attractively dressed."

Shepard rolled her eyes, then glanced at Liara. "I shouldn't complain... when you put that on I thought my heart would stop. You are a lot braver than I am, Liara." The aircar accelerated, swooping lower over the Wards and shuddering slightly as it coasted along, buffeting them slightly. _Great, every line out of my mouth sounds like a bad pickup line, for fucks sake. _

Liara frowned a bit. "I am not sure I understand your meaning. This is hardly revealing for a young asari of means."

Shepard's eyes narrowed at that, then she shrugged. "I'm starting to see why most young men have unhealthy fixations on asari."

Liara's lips curved ever so slightly. "And I am starting to see why most young asari find humans just a touch prudish. I do wonder, however, what your reaction would be to some of the more daring pieces I still have in my luggage."

"Liara..."


	60. Chapter 52: Wrex, Remembrance

_**A/N : **The final bits are coming together now. At least one person wanted me to write up a Kaiden/Ash sex scene, but I feel that my skills at that sort of thing are... rusty at best. _

_I'm doing a lot of pairing, which seems silly I guess, but most of it won't pan out to anything in the first part of the series. It's more setting up the proper backstory, which all so often wasn't put into the game due to time limits. Yes, the Liara and Shepard thing is going somewhere. Getting there is the tricky part. _

_Finally, today's story you HAVE to check out is _**Down by the Water** _by Jay8008. You think your Liara is a edgy bad-ass? Bitch please. Jay8008's Control That Which You Cannot Destroy is also hugely entertaining._

* * *

Karin Chakwas fancied herself a level-headed, sensible woman, for the most part. She had served the Alliance since she graduated medical school, with stars in her eyes and romantic visions of strong-limbed heroes filling her head. For most of her life, however, she'd been rotated across a wide variety of ships that had only one thing in common – a lack of any reason to settle down.

She wasn't a saint, of course – she'd dated, a couple of times semi-seriously thinking about long-term relationships. But the promotions came thick and fast, and with them, more duties, heavier burdens, and more wounded soldiers.

She'd been puzzled by her crash transfer to the Normandy, especially given its stated mission. As it turned out, the 'stated' mission had turned into the sort of epic chase she'd so foolishly dreamed about as a young woman, and the ship was filled with young, heroic soldiers.

Full of fear. Young enough to be her sons or daughters.

The doctor had kept calm throughout the flight from Feros, as calm as one could be in a life-or-death struggle to save several desperately wounded people. It wasn't until she'd had a chance to decompress at DR939 that the sheer nearness of death had hit her full on. She was no wilting violet, and she'd been in a firefight or two , but the casual ease with which the huge black geth ship had dispatched the might of an entire Citadel fleet, followed by the horrific obliteration of the Feros colony, had shook her.

The crew, she noted as shore leave had begun, felt much the same way. Four minutes, eleven seconds slower and they'd have been slag or free-floating atoms. Still getting to know each other after a hectic couple of weeks, the announcement of shore leave had raised morale, and yet gave every member of the crew further time to reflect on what a close call they'd had.

Chakwas had planned to engage in much of the same sort of navel contemplation, she supposed, until she'd run into Engineer Adams when hailing a cab. The lieutenant was rather grizzled, certainly not handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but what had started as mere chit-chat in the cab had turned into one of the most fascinating conversations Chakwas could remember. Ranging from philosophy to religion and memories of a captain they'd both served under, Chakwas found Adams very refreshingly direct to talk to.

The second day of shore leave had dawned, and those of the crew who didn't rent hotels for the night staggered out of sleeper pods or tiny bunks groggily. The mess deck was full of bleary eyed marines, sipping morosely at coffee and watching the Citadel News feed. At least a couple had watch today, and looked particularly depressed. Pouring herself a cup of Earl Grey tea, the doctor leaned against the bulkhead of the mess, listening to another report of a geth attack, this time at a remote research station near Horizon.

"I wonder if Shepard will cut leave short, after that story." Chakwas turned, surprised, and found the speaker was none other than Adams. "I mean, you have to figure, if the geth are attacking, they must have had a target."

Chakwas smiled, sipping her tea. "One hesitates to try to predict the commander, Greg. But I suspect we'll only have today for leave, I can't imagine the commander sitting on her hands and waiting for a lead."

The engineer shrugged. "I figure she won't. Course, the crew is acting like a pack of hooligans..." He glanced around the mess decks, a sour grin spreading across his features. "Speaking of hangovers, that reminds me, Doc. There's a bar not too far off the main way to the human embassy, kind of a hangout for the civil service set, I guess. They serve Serrice Ice Brandy by the shot, or the bottle."

Chakwas laughed. "I'm amused you remember our conversation. I shouldn't be so partial to alien liquor, I suppose, but it reminds me of times when I was rash enough to take courses on alien medicine right on strange new worlds." She arched a graying eyebrow. "I don't suppose you'd care to escort a lady, would you? While I assure you I have no intention of drinking myself insensate, a bit more time away from the ship would be welcome."

Adams finished his coffee, smirking. "Kinda early to be drinking, don't you think? I only mentioned it in case you wanted to swing by the place later on..."

The levity in Chakwas' face faded suddenly, her large, green eyes fixing on his, sad and empty. "Yes, but I worry very much that I won't have the chance to partake again once we leave. I have every confidence in the Commander and her ability to succeed, but..."

Adams glanced at the deck. "Yeah. I'm astounded we've lost only Jenkins so far." He rotated his coffee cup aimlessly on the mess deck table, then directed his gaze back upwards. "Tell you what, doc. I got a bit of shopping to do – ship-stuff, not personal. But if you're still feeling like a drink, I'll meet you at the embassy in a couple of hours."

Chakwas inclined her head. "I'll be there." She turned away, only to see Beatrice Shields in plain gray BDUs, leaving the Medbay with Wrex. "Heading to see the doctors, Ms. Shields?"

The mercenary woman pushed a lock of black hair back out of her face and gave a neutral smile. "Perhaps. I owe Wrex a cup of jaaki, so I'm going to buy him one and talk about old times, then I'll head over to Grissom Memorial after I check in with Exogeni's Citadel branch, to see if I still have a job." She exhaled. "I ... don't know if I'm coming back, but I left a message on Shepard's mail system. Thanks for... patching me up, Doc."

Chakwas smiled. "No need to thank me, young lady, but you're certainly welcome. Let me know if the hospital needs any records from me, I've forwarded most of what we had on you."

Shields nodded, then turned to Wrex. "Bit unsteady still, so if I fall, you'd better catch me, fat ass."

Wrex snorted. "You buy me some jaaki and a slug of ryncol and I'll carry you piggy-back down the middle of the Presidium if you like. Eat anyone who looks at you funny." With a surprisingly gentle gesture, the big alien put a supportive hand on Shields' arm, guiding her to the elevator.

Chakwas wondered, yet again, what could have affected a violent mercenary like Wrex on Torfan so much that he seemed to treat Shepard and Shields like old friends, before tucking the question away for another day.

O-OSaBC-O

Flux was much as Shepard had described it – full of music, dancing, and drinks. Liara was amused at how quickly after the taxi had landed the commander had gone looking for a restroom, a single box from the aircar in hand, only to return a few minutes later in nondescript marine BDUs. She seemed far more comfortable in such martial wear, if not exactly relaxed. Liara was both grateful that Shepard had taken her idea in such good humor, and a tiny bit disappointed she'd put back on the shapeless , loose BDU's.

Upon entering the club, Liara had passed between two giant krogan bouncers, who scowled at her before seeing Shepard standing behind her, giving both a very pointed glare. The one on the left mutely jerked his blocky head towards the bar, and Shepard had strolled by, Liara in her wake. The false confidence Liara had put on in front of the packed crowd near C-Sec had fallen by the wayside, and once again she felt aimless, merely following out of a lack of any real will to go off on her own.

Shepard wasted no time ordering a drink and claiming a poorly lit booth in the corner, Liara following mutely after ordering a glass of water. She blinked against the flashing lights, the booming bass of the music seeming to thunder through her, disorienting her in the dimness. She sat, smoothing her dress, and glanced across the table at Shepard, who was morosely examining her drink.

"Water, Liara?" Shepard's voice was wry, her lips twisted into a semi-mocking grin. The asari shrugged her shoulders, and glanced around the confines of the corner of the club.

"I find myself unwilling to consume a great deal of alcohol prior to shopping for delicate scientific equipment, Shepard. It seems prudent to keep – ah, what is the idiom – an empty head? That sounds... rather …" She trailed off as Shepard's grin widened into a smile.

"Keep your head clear, I think it what you meant to say. What is it with aliens and always wanting to use our expressions? You never hear humans blathering on about the Goddess or talking about weird animals on Palaven."

Liara shrugged, a trifle hurt by the cool dismissive nature of the question. "I-I would expect it is because humans are still very new to the Citadel races, Shepard." She was about to mention her mother's fascination with humans upon their entry to the galactic arena, but painful memories lashed across her psyche, and she sighed instead.

Shepard pulled out a packet of cigarettes and flipped the lid, withdrawing two. "You look stiff as a board. Awkwardness in social situations is normally my trademark, so what's up?" With a casual gesture she slid the extra cigarette across the table, then lit her own, the flick-snap of flame illuminating the dimness for only a moment. Liara took the offered cigarette, but did not reach for the lighter, her face pensive.

"I have been thinking about a conversation Ms. Shields and I had not long ago. She is still very much in a great deal of confusion over … past events. Will she be traveling with us on our pursuit of Saren?" Liara tried very hard to keep her voice steady, not wanting to admit to herself she was torn about the presence of the human woman. They would never be friends, but they'd reached a brittle, painful understanding.

Shepard inhaled, letting the smoke flow into her and smooth away the stresses that question caused. "I don't know, Liara. Part of me wants her to, but she's hurt pretty bad, and she won't be up for a fight for months ." She blew smoke out of her mouth, shrugging. "It kind of –"

She broke off as Liara's omni-tool lit up, flashing a pale blue. "Priority transmission from Thessia. Please visit the nearest LDC booth at your earliest convenience. You have a message from House T'Soni."

Shepard glanced up at Liara, and winced. The asari looked as if she'd been kicked in the gut, her face pale and frightened, eyes wide and obviously scared. A moment later, with an obvious effort, Liara blanked her emotions, fist clenching, and glanced at Shepard. "I am very sorry, Shepard, but I have a message from my family that I must deal with. I should not take long, will you –"

Shepard frowned. "What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost." She leaned forward, concerned, but the asari shook her head.

"It... it is my family. A private matter. They would not contact me unless it was .. something serious."

Shepard scowled, scrubbing out her cigarette. "And nothing good, I presume? I'm sorry. Go on and talk to your family, Liara. Take however long you need, I'll be here, and we can talk about it when you get back." She took a shot from her drink and the asari nodded, rising gracefully from her seat to walk calmly towards the door. Shepard watched her walk, the sway of her hips, the arch of her back, even the calm poise she displayed as she eyed the two krogan on her way out.

She then glanced back down at her drink. Looking was harmless. Right? _Stay cool, be friendly, let her do her thing, then go find an asari stripper and get it out of your system. _

She took another drink, but the liquor had nothing to say to her thoughts.

O-OSaBC-O

"Later, Wrex."

Shields waved off the big krogan as she came to the front of the Exogeni complex, leaning on the cane she'd been issued at the hospital. The meeting with two salarians and one human doctor had only taken a few minutes, and it had been about as bad as she feared.

Her cerebellum had been damaged by the blow to the head she'd suffered, and even with cybernetic gyroscopes installed in her spine and legs, she'd have a hard time fully maintaining her balance. The liver replacement showed she had actually developed some kind of kidney disorder, and to top it off, the neural implants that allowed her arm to fully function would have to be completely replaced if she wanted further cybernetics.

Exogeni wasn't going to pony up hundreds of thousands of creds for such an operation, and her insurance wouldn't cover anything but the most basic bio-replacement systems. The doctors had given her some medicine and a cane and smiled sympathetically, but there wasn't much to be done.

So now she stood at the foyer to the Exogeni complex, steeling herself to go in and be told she was of no use to anyone, anymore. Too washed out and bitter to serve Earth's military, too crippled for merc work, too much of a burden on Shepard to help her out...

With a sigh Shields pushed open the door, entering the foyer. Slick black marble tiles met plain white-steel walls, and gentle music filled the air. A set of wide benches were arranged in a semicircle around a reception desk, the sterile room brightened here and there by flowering plants in colorful glazed ceramic pots.

A single male receptionist stood at the desk, hands moving between several haptic keyboards. He glanced up as she approached. "Welcome to Exogeni. I'm sorry, due to recent events all meetings and appointments have been canceled."

Shields sighed. "Exogeni Special Response, unit 11, Feros. I kinda think someone in the office would want to talk to me."

The receptionist frowned, and nodded. "Please wait here, I'll check." Rather than bringing up a comm link, he actually turned and left, going through a code-sealed door into some kind of passageway. With a sigh, Shields sat.

For a moment, she thought she glimpsed something out of the corner of her eye. She half turned, but it was only the foyer door, still a bit ajar, closing slowly. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "Crap, I'm tired." She pulled up her omni-tool, ensuring all her reports were in place, and checked her chrono.

The door in the far wall opened, and two heavily built men in dark suits with Exogeni name badges stepped through. "Commander Shields, the acting COO wants to speak with you. Please follow us."

Shields stood, using the cane to support her. "Can't move too fast, sorry."

The two men said nothing, flanking her and leading her down a long but narrow hallway to a fairly large room, maybe 30 by 30, with a huge comm-link screen set into one wall and a circle of chairs around it. The men directed her to a seat and then departed, leaving her alone in the room with her thoughts.

After a few moments, the comm link lit up, but the figure on it was… obscured. Dressed in an expensive looking sports coat and loose silk shirt, his face was blacked out by some kind of digital filter, leaving only a shadow silhouette and two blazing circles of blue for eyes, some kind of cybernetics. The voice that spoke was cultured, modulated, and calm – and probably modified. "Good morning, Ms. Shields. You've proven very hard to track down for a conversation."

Shields frowned. "I'm looking to turn in my report about the events on Feros."

The voice chuckled. "But we already know what happened on Feros, commander. And I'm afraid there are no Exogeni executives left to report to. Right now, what you know is a danger to humanity's future, and I can't afford it getting out."

Shields slowly got to her feet, cursing mentally. She had not brought a single weapon, and she could barely walk. Gritting her teeth, she triggered the mental command to activate the cutting laser she'd built into her cybernetic arm – if she got close enough she could burn out an eye or slit a throat with it. "So who the fuck are you?"

The answer was solemn and final. "We are Cerberus, Ms. Shields. I regret things have to come to this end." The link went dead, even as the doors behind her opened.

Men in black-tinted ballistic cloth, with narrow, thin armor plates in white and gold, streamed through, each one carrying Mattock rifles and large-caliber pistols. She balled her fist, as one of them strode right up to her, pistol in hand, and refused to look away as the goon lifted it and fired at point blank range.

The blast and sound from the huge handgun was disorienting, but not as much as the sudden flicker of gravity around her, or the realization that the shot had not done a thing. She opened one eye, staring into the barrel, and the soldier stepped back, looking confused.

A moment later there was a flare of biotic light, and the man's arm tore itself free from its socket in a gory wash of blood. The man screamed, a surprisingly high-pitched, panicked sound, a moment before a second flare of blue and a lance of light smashed into him, sending him flying across the room to hit the far wall. The impact buckled the wall and sent bits of flesh smearing everywhere, the man's body literally splashing with the force of the strike.

The ten other soldiers who had entered had rifles up, pointing in all directions, even as lightning erupted directly in front of Shields. She gasped, falling onto her backside, as a huge turian seemingly appeared out of thin air in front of her.

Long black cloth cloaked his form, pierced only by one black-armored hand, leaning heavily on a cane made of thick black polymers. A ragged, smoky voice erupted from the shroud, filled with cold, cruel boredom. "Cerberus lackeys. Ms. Shields is under the protection of the Shadow Broker, and your ham-handed attempts at ending her life are unappreciated. Be gone."

The lead Cerberus soldier, his armor a bit thicker and more elaborate than his comrades, gave a laugh. "You're goddamned delusional, skullface. There's ten of us, and one of you."

The turian sighed. "It is not my fault you brought insufficient reinforcements, monkey. This is your final warning. My master does not seek war with you and yours, but if you push us -"

The words were cut off mid-sentence, as the Cerberus squad scattered for cover, opening fire with a fusillade of firepower. Most of them had Mattocks, but a couple had pulled out grenades, one had a sniper rifle, and one a shotgun. Hundreds of rounds stormed at the turian, and he didn't even duck, merely standing there.

Every round bouncing harmlessly off his barrier, flickering and snapping into view with the impact.

With a bored wave, the turian made a mnemonic gesture at three of the soldiers, who were slammed into the wall. A second later, biotic energy crawled over their bodies, microsingularies erupting from inside their chests. They had barely enough time to scream before erupting into shockwaves, flooding their companions with gore and sending body parts flying in all directions. Shields cringed in disgust as an eyeball flew past her, landing with a plop by her foot.

The remaining soldiers ducked behind cover, popping up for quick shots. The turian seemed amused, as he began to laugh. Still ignoring their shots, he pushed his hands forwards, and the heavy vidscreen on the wall shuddered and fell, slamming into two Cerberus soldiers with a heavy thud. Shields heard a series of gruesome crunching noises as the men were pulped beneath the eight hundred pound vid-screen.

Two other Cerberus soldiers had managed to roll clear, firing in sporadic bursts. Their weapons were equally ineffective. The turian made another casual gesture, as if waving away an unpleasant smell. A burst of blue radiance snapped into a tight, blinding beam of energy, lashing through both of them with a whip-crack of displaced air, sending the first soldier to the ground in a bisected pile of limbs. The other, hit more directly, simply came apart in cascading sheets of liquifying flesh, screaming in agony for a second before choking in a wet gurgle and slumping to the ground.

The turian _snickered. _

Shields thought it was over, but then her was drawn to the last two Cerberus soldiers.

One had lifted up a Kraken Missile launcher. Tipped with a pulsar field wrapped around plasma, it was a heavy weapon mostly used for anti-armor purposes. If it hit, there was no way even this crazy turian could survive such a blast, and Shields, without armor, would literally boil. The woman closed her eyes again, wondering why the Shadow Broker had tried to save her, and felt sorry such a .. magnificent turian would die for her.

The blast rocked the entire room, so bright that even with her eyes closed her vision turned to pure white. Heat radiated from every surface, so hot she felt her hair crackle slightly, and her throat contracted. The roaring sounds that filled the room faded, followed by... the wobble of the floor.

She opened her eyes again, and this time her jaw fell open. The comm room was blackened and on fire, much of the metal decking seared and boiling. A heavier, glowing purple barrier now surrounded both of them, and inside its radius the floor was pristine. The boiled, blackened husks half-baked into the far wall, and the impact crater that had blasted through the wall, were bubbling with radiation, and the entrance to the room was clear, the doors buckled and hurled into the corridor.

Amazingly, one Cerberus soldier had lived, thrown across the room by a fluke of the explosion, his armor wrecked and his face a mass of seeping burns. The turian let his barrier drop, slowly crossing the room to stand in front of the dying man, who gasped. "Y-you... can't b-be alive..."

The turian snorted, and his armored boot came down on the humans' skull, shattering it to red-tinted jagged fragments. "Not enough gun." With a languid motion, the tall figure in black turned back around to face Shields. "I presume you are unhurt, Ms. Shields?"

She coughed, stammering for a second before forcing herself to calm. "Y-yes, thank you. How... how did you survive a goddamned Kraken missile? Who fuck are you?"

The turian glanced around the room, and she could now see his face, or what was visible from under the hood he wore. Only one mandible could be seen, blackened and twisted, and this flickered at her question. Only one eye could be seen, glowing red, obviously cybernetic. "To answer your first question: I used a biotic field to redirect the missile at the one who fired it. And erected my strongest barriers. As for your second question: I am Tetrimus, the Mouth of the Broker. He would like to ask you some questions, and extend you an offer of employment, which would include any medical expenses you might need."

Shields bit her lip, then sighed. "I don't think I can help you. If you want to know about Feros..."

Tetrimus chuckled. "No, we already know about humanity's experiments there. Our questions have less to do with Exogeni's past, and more to do with your own. The Broker wants to know about Commander Shepard."

Shields gave him a dubious look. "What do you mean you already know about Feros? And why do you want to know about Shepard!?"

Tetrimus extended a hand, and she took it, slowly getting to her feet. "What I mean is that we have already had a long and profitable discussion with Mr. Jeong, who is also now in our service. Given that there are elements in your Systems Alliance who definitely don't want this information to see the light of day, he deemed it prudent to... vanish."

Shields couldn't debate that. If not for Tetrimus... if Wrex, or worse, Shepard, had been here with her, they'd all be dead. She swallowed. "So I'm a danger as well, not just to myself, but to those around me."

Tetrimus did not move, but his voice rumbled amusement. "You are quick to see the problem laid before you. As for our interest in Shepard, I assure you it is benign. We believe Cerberus is targeting her as well, and the more we know, the better prepared we can be for attempts on her life."

He glanced around. "I would recommend we move quickly. Cerberus does not openly use such force often, but C-Sec will be... unhappy if they locate us."

Shields nodded, stiffly following him to the smoking ruin that used to be the door. "What about the other employees?"

Tetrimus paused, then shook his head. "Cerberus does not leave things to chance. Speaking of which..." He stopped as the two burly men in suits who had brought Shields into the back rounded a corner, guns drawn. With a smooth motion he pulled a heavy handgun from his waist and drilled both of them with head shots. One, two.

Shields blinked. _Head shots at 40 feet like they were nothing?_ "I'm guessing they weren't real Exogeni employees?"

Tetrimus shook his head. "C-Sec is arrogant, depending on its idiotic network of snitches and data taps to find crime. Cerberus is cunning, careful and fully aware of how things work on the Citadel. They have infiltrated it heavily over the past five years, and I have no doubt every real Exogeni employee here was captured by Cerberus minutes after the news at Feros became public. When I was here yesterday, looking for something Mr. Jeong sent me to find, there was no one but Cerberus agents in every office."

They entered the front foyer, Tetrimus pausing to shoot the front desk clerk with casual ease, and Shields shuddered. She'd been a fool to think she was a hardened killer; compared to this nightmare assassin she was little more than a skilled gunman. She was about to ask another question when two C-sec officers came through the front door, guns drawn.

The first one, a turian, paused when he saw Tetrimus, and angled his gun down. "You've got about five minutes, sir. C-Sec Special Response and Special Investigations are already on the way."

Tetrimus nodded. "I have an aircar outside, Ms. Shields. Your answer?"

Shields sighed and nodded. "Might as well at least hear your boss out. The alternative looks, well, unhealthy. Not to mention if I say no you might kill me."

Tetrimus actually sniffed. "Perish the thought. I have no wish to enter into combat with your friend Shepard, and killing one of her closest associates seems an excellent way to piss her off." He opened the front door, and gestured. "After you."

O-OSaBC-O

Wrex sat glumly at the edge of the Presidium's artificial lake, staring up at the Krogan Monument carved there. The krogan depicted in duranium and stone was a masterwork, eyes alight with the fire of battle, armor lovingly detailed, down to the etchings of war-prayers on the gauntlets and the nicks and damage of battle on one pauldron. There was heavy nobility and sadness to his stance that seemed an ironic echo of what had come later for the krogan people.

Wrex glanced away, disgusted at his own self-loathing. He'd realized long ago his people were a lost cause, too twisted by history, by biology, by culture and by sheer bloody-minded pride to rebuild what they had lost. The genophage made a mockery of families and turned Tuchanka's women into martyrs. Thousands every year wandered into the wastes to die once they realized they were infertile, to save supplies and food for those were not.

Wrex balled a fist, exhaling deeply, and then forced his hand open. Dwelling on it wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't bring back his father, or make his brother suddenly understand what the price of glory in war was.

It wouldn't bring back a young, foolish krogan boy who'd nearly gotten killed on Torfan, just to be saved by a pair of human women, and then to die in a fluke accident months later. Wrex glanced back up at the statue, wondering why the aliens who lived here even bothered to keep it standing. They could tear it down and replace it with a volus, then ooh and ahh over the credits it brought in.

He was about to stand up when he heard voices, from above, small and high-pitched. The balcony above overhung where he sat, and echoes from the conversation filtered down with almost perfect clarity.

"This, children, is the krogan monument." A few kids made small whimpers, and the female voice that was clearly their teacher shushed them. "Hush. It is just a statue. It was erected by a grateful galaxy, long ago, when the krogan sacrificed millions of their own kind to stop the rachni from killing all life in the galaxy."

A tiny turian voice piped up. "My father says the krogan tried to kill us too."

The older female voice – it sounded like an asari – cleared her throat. "That came later, and perhaps not without cause. And it is not important compared to the lesson for today. Every race has its villains, and sometimes entire races turn bad. I can remember when batarians were seen as shy and somewhat peaceful, before the government fell and the Fist of Khar'shan took power and turned their society into one driven by slavery and war. I can remember when the hanar first arrived, and people were terrified they'd be like the rachni because – and I quote – 'both had tentacles'."

She sighed. "The krogan did indeed rebel, and the war was bloody and long. But if not for the krogan, none of us would have survived in the first place. They sacrificed many – brothers, fathers, sons, and friends – to fight a foe so lethal that other species couldn't even set foot on the rachni worlds."

The sound of clicking foot-heels sounded from above. "History is not about picking and choosing what parts of a race's pursuits we use to judge them, but by considering their entire history. And this is why the monument is still here, despite some, like Varkan's father, who feel the krogan are not worthy of such. One day, the krogan may save us again, or may change and become peaceful. We never know."

Wrex snorted to himself at that last. The teacher's calm voice faded as she began walking away. "But you must always make your own choices about alien species in light of how they view events. For example, for the humans, the turians are the aggressors in the Relay 314 incident..."

With a sigh, the krogan stood, glancing up again at the statue. "It's happening all over again, grandfather. One of Okeer's brood was tied up with Saren. Geth are out there, killing and shooting up whatever they feel like, and everyone is too busy wringing their hands to go out there and fix it."

Wrex placed a hand at the base of the statue, leaving behind a small bottle of ryncol. Then he turned away, leaving the light to glimmer on the inscription at the base.

_In dedication to and in memory of the brave Krogan of Tuchanka, and of Warlord Urdnot Khael, who died that we might live, who fought that we might have peace, bled that we might build. Saviors of the galaxy, heroes of the Citadel, and eternal friends to all species._


	61. Chapter 52: Liara, Family

_**A/N**: Whelp, now ends the soul-baring. Once again I'd like to thank Owelpost for all the hard work, revisions, ideas, and extensive rework that has helped refine these past chapters. I'd also like to thank everyone who reviewed, or sent encouraging private messages. _

_Most have wondered what exactly is so 'dark' about Shepard. Sure, she had a few ugly moments at the start of the story, but she seems to have emotions, albeit confused ones, and empathy, even a bit of humor and the ability to hesitantly make friends. Make no mistake, my initial words were not off the mark. So far, she hasn't been faced with the need to choose , or to make choices that could show the person she can be when things go wrong. _

_That is coming, and it will not be pretty. The evil, petty hatred and cynicism of the Premiseverse has been held at bay mostly by the way the story has shaped itself, but the assaults on Cerberus and the issues on Tuchanka will not be light. The geth war will be ugly. And Noveria isn't going to end happily for anybody. _

_But for now, enjoy the last happyish moments of the day!_

* * *

Liara took a nervous breath as she entered the public communications station. Opaque glassed-in booths circled a large, central area with public extranet terminals. The comms station was almost empty, save for a couple of bickering salarians and the bored looking asari at the help desk.

Picking an open booth at random, she shut the glass door behind her, hearing the thrumming sound of the privacy field going up as she did so. The booth was not large, merely a comfortable pair of chairs and a small vidscreen with keyboard.

Liara bit her lip, and pulled the chair out to sit down. Taking a moment to make sure her features were calm, she tapped a few strokes on the keyboard to begin the transmission.

'TRANSMIT: code Thesan-eluran. DESTINATION: Thessia, Armali Enclave, Skypillar Reach, House T'Soni.'

The vidscreen responded, flaring first into the dull grey logo of the Asari Republics, then into the flame-tree and rose of House T'Soni. A moment after that the screen showed the still face of her aunt, Mithra.

"Liara. You responded promptly, that is good." Mithra's voice was clipped, cold, and angry, mirroring the dark look in her eyes. She wore a shimmering vest of silver over a silken shirt, and a long multi-layered skirt in hues of gray, green and white. The flame-trees swayed in the background, heavy with fruit., Her aunt was flanked by two of Liara's relatives.

Shian T'Soni was tall and angular, a bitter set to her mouth and the faded outline of an Eclipse tattoo still visible along her jaw. Muscular, almost hulking for an asari, she stood with folded arms and stiff posture. Expensive black and pale blue armor shone dully, and the stock of some kind of heavy weapon peaked over one shoulder. Her eyes were impossible to read, hidden behind dark sunglasses that wrapped around her face. She was the only daughter of Benezia's youngest sister, raised by Mithra after her mother died in a transport crash.

On the other side of Mithra stood Yvael, wearing almost nothing, as usual. Her darker blue eyes were pits of hate, but her expression was otherwise pleasant. Her breasts were barely covered by a thin, diaphanous set of narrow strips of fabric, crisscrossing her torso, and her skirt was slit on both hips, cut away to the left almost to the middle of the thigh. Yvael's pale white marking trailed down her jawline and onto her chest, pictographic promises and prayers from her worship of the old pantheistic goddess of pleasure. Mithra's biological daughter, she had a tendency towards sadism.

Liara calmly exhaled, folding her arms, suddenly glad she was wearing a nice dress and not a drab University outfit. "I am always willing to serve the house, and with what has occurred…" Liara trailed off, mind working hard to remember every scrap of tutoring Benezia had given on handling peers and relatives.

Mithra sniffed at that, but then shrugged. "Liara, the city council of Armali voted 112 to 0 to have Benezia stripped of her citizenship and rights. There are riots in the streets, from some of Benezia's followers, who refuse to stand down or believe the charges against her. The Serrice Guard was forced to fire directly into the rioters. At least 20 are dead, more wounded. A few voices have called for House T'Soni to be stricken from the Thirty Families as traitors, since Benezia is still listed as house Matriarch."

Liara managed, to her own surprise, to keep her expression calm, but her stomach lurched and pain seemed to radiate down her spine. "They cannot do that, can they? They have not the right, nor the agreement of the Families."

Mirala nodded sourly. "No, they do not." She winced as a loud explosion sounded, and in the background Liara saw House T'Soni huntresses clambering up one of the high walls, weapons in hand. "Unfortunately, Benezia seems to have drained the house account, and we have only a third of our usual forces, the rest having left with your mother. We have less than fifty thousand credits on hand, and none of the off-world banks are responding to my demands for credit transfer. House Vasir is calling in the loans they made to us, and to the City of Armali, immediately." Her expression darkened in anger. "A demand we cannot meet."

Liara closed her eyes, swallowing back fear. The loose e-democracy of Thessia was held together by the great Cities, each one home to several of the Thirty Families. The Families ruled the Cities by dint of owning, collectively, roughly 55% of all of the wealth in the Asari Republics. Each City and its associated Families played political and economic games spanning centuries, angling for a few more points of influence.

Armali was one of the smallest Cities, boasting only the Families of Vasir and T'Soni to its name, and much of the city's industry and economic underpinnings were financed and supported by investments made by said houses. If these defaulted, it was doubtful the city's economy would recover. The Armali Council, the loose affiliation of manufacturing guilds that had spread the name T'Soni far and wide, would go bankrupt overnight, and the only way the city would have to survive would be to seize the house's property.

The maneuvering of House Vasir was plain even for Liara to see. Mithra, without being named the Matriarch, could not access the off-world house accounts to pay the loans Vasir was calling due. With the Matriarch stripped of her title and her heir a pureblood somewhere off-world, Vasir would simply take its payment in the form of House T'Soni's properties and investments, leaving the family destitute.

Liara opened her eyes. "What do you need me to do? I am hardly able to come to Thessia and quell the rioting in my mother's name, or-"

Shian snorted, but Mithra waved her to silence. "I need your authorization codes for all house property, and your recorded statement that you formally transfer heritance of house matriarchy to me and my own heirs. Finally, you will have to return to Thessia to answer the questions of the Families... and the justicars." The last was voiced in a near whisper.

Liara sighed. "I expected this. I doubt anyone would want a pureblood leading one of the Thirty Families, after all." Her voice was flinty, as she brought up her omnitool to look for the codes.,

Mithra's voice was oddly soft as she spoke. "Liara, I did not want this." Liara looked up, a frown of disbelief on her face, mirrored in the looks of Mithra's daughters, but the older asari woman looked sincere, and tired. "I wanted Benezia to recognize the work I've done, the danger Shian endured to strengthen our forces, the influence Yvael has won with the younger generations. I wanted to be _appreciated_ for my work in bringing the Armali Council to the Citadel. Most of all, I wanted her to admit that my children had achieved something, while you wasted your time digging in the dirt and being made mock of by Family society." The bitterness in her voice as she said the last was caustic and thick, underlain with sadness and disappointment.

Mithra's gaze pinned Liara. "But I never wanted dead asari littered like leaves in front of our house, or to be forced to steal your birthright from you as my sister smears our name into the dirt. I'm not sorry it must happen, but I would have preferred it to... happen differently." Her stiff expression tightened, in some emotion Liara could not recognize, but in the background Yvael rolled her eyes.

Liara nodded. "I... understand." She tapped a last few keys, and the omnitool pulsed. "I've transmitted all of the authorization codes I have. I... do not know if Benezia changed them."

Mithra's image on the screen flickered as she brought up her own omnitool, tapping rapidly. Several seconds passed before she sagged in relief. "Only some of them. The main accounts with the banks on Sur'kesh haven't been touched. I am transferring funds now. There... isn't much, but it will have to do. We'll put that Vasir bitch back in her place..."

Shian spoke up. "Mother, we should do the heritance transfer remotely. Right now, you don't even have the right to speak for the house, or pledge its funds." She gave a sullen glance to Liara. "And frankly, no offense Liara, but I don't think anyone here has any faith in your ability to lead the family."

Liara bit her lip, then spoke clearly, after tapping a control on her omnitool. "I, Liara T'Soni, only child of Matriarch Benezia T'Soni, chatelaine of the house, resign and refuse my heritage, my rights as house heir , and my voice in Family Council. These I pass to my aunt, Mithra T'Soni, and to her children by blood and name I pass on my portion of the House assets." She tapped her omni-tool again, sending the recording to her aunt, who nodded in return.

"I am afraid, Matriarch Mithra, that I cannot answer the demand to return to Thessia. I am currently in the custody of Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance, and she has already refused to turn me over to the Citadel Council."

Shian and Yvael traded glances, with Shian speaking. "They are holding you _hostage?_"

Liara shook her head, forcing herself not to stammer, to show nothing but calm. "No. They simply do not wish to allow me to go on my own way, due to Saren's geth and krogan having tried to kill me."

Yvael shrugged, turning to face her mother. "Does it matter? Let the justicars deal with it, we need to organize the rest of the family." Mithra nodded , and rose, following Yvael off to the right, leaving only Shian standing there.

Liara sighed and reached to cut off the screen when her cousin spoke. "Don't come back to Thessia, Liara. Benezia has all but ruined our name, and the added stain of a pureblood in our affairs is something we do not need."

Liara managed to suppress the pain those words inflicted on her, steeling her gaze. "Do not worry yourself, cousin. I am sure with your background in selling narcotics and engaging in wild fights, you will fit well into the refined upper echelons of Family society."

The shot struck home, the other asari's face flushing angry blue , taking off her wraparound shades to glare daggers at Liara. "I wasn't given the same chances you were, you bitch! Benezia showered you with education and attention. Private tutors. Trips to Palaven and Sur'kesh. Goddamned fetes by the Consort. The rest of the family languished and suffered while you threw away everything she gave you."

Shian ticked off fingers, eyes blazing. "We're not even capable of acting like one of the Thirty any longer, struggling to work like the lower classes to handle our debts. Manae is still trying to afford to go to university. Sisthra had to cancel her marriage to her mate, since we didn't have the money to afford her abandoning her job as a systems engineer. Riala and Mishan struggle to hold two jobs and , and Saris is hoping she can find a job soon. Benezia's crazy investments have been losing money hand over fist., We've been forced to sell almost everything but the core holdings and the house itself, and all the while, you're off playing at being a scientist."

Shian spat. "My mother is too cultured to speak the real truth, but I will. This is **your** fault. You should have been here. Maybe if you had been, Benezia wouldn't have run off after Saren like a lunatic, or felt so depressed she threw herself into mystic claptrap instead of taking care of her fam–"

Liara's hand shot out, killing the vid-link mid-sentence, sending the screen into darkness. It all hit her at once, the rejection, the pain, the realization she'd never see her home again, or walk among the flame-trees her ancestors had planted. Never recline on the ancient stone benches and hear the booming surf, or marvel at the soaring cliffs of the Skypillar mountains, purple and mysterious, in the distance beyond the horizon.

She clenched her fists on her thighs, as tears ran down her cheeks, the emotions coursing through her and leaving her feeling weak and useless.

_Shian is right.. I was so caught up in having my own way I didn't even think what it must have done to my mother. Was my leaving what drove her to Saren? Am I to blame for all of this suffering and death? _

She sagged bonelessly against the booth's wall, letting the sobs rack her, unable to stop them or make any sense of why she was even alive any more. Her dreams of research were ashes, her career destroyed with hateful enemies poised to ruin any possible return. Her own family blamed her for what her mother had become, and she'd just signed away all her rights to leading the house as her mother had trained her to, just to keep it from being bankrupted by unethical enemies.

She wiped her eyes angrily, cursing her weakness. Her mother had been right. She had amounted to very little at all – a heap of worthless research no one cared for, a shattered family, and broken dreams. She'd never be welcome in society – being pureblood was bad enough, but now the stain of being Benezia's daughter would end any chances at a normal life on Thessia. The gossip and melding-enhanced knowing that saturated so many social circles would serve to ostracize her permanently.

She felt so very tired, and she wiped at her eyes again, wishing she had someone to advise her on what to do. But Shiala was dead. Her mother was brainwashed. The only other person she had reached out to at all was Shepard, and the human clearly despised weakness. Compared to her own horrific background, Liara's pitiful tragedy would seem like nothing at all.

_What am I even doing? Sobbing to myself on the Citadel, engaged in a hopeless chase against my own mother? All I wanted to do was to study and be left in peace. Was that so horribly wrong, that I have to watch my entire life unravel? _

The unyielding, opaque walls of the comms booth held no answers but silence.

O-OSaBC-O

It had been fifteen minutes, and Liara wasn't back yet. Shepard impatiently checked her omni-tool before sighing, unsure of what exactly to do.

A few drinks had helped settle her nerves, which both worried and pleased her. Worried, because she'd never been one for drinking much before, but was pleasantly surprised that simply being able to relax for a moment and have a drink was able to calm her down.

_You're still in amazement you haven't gotten everyone killed, most likely. _

Deciding to make the most of her time, she brought up her omni-tool's news interfaces, scowling as she read about the geth assault on a distant human colony. No word about Prothean ruins, but most likely the truth of that was being suppressed, or Saren was fishing for his next target.

Her omni-tool bleeped with an incoming message, from a Samesh Bhatia. She didn't recognize the name yet it somehow sounded familiar. Since it was flagged with an Alliance authorization code, she accepted it – at least it wasn't likely to be fan mail. "Yes?"

A hologram of a strongly featured older man, with sad brown eyes and a thin mouth, appeared above her omni-tool. "I apologize for bothering you, Commander Shepard. My name is Samesh Bhatia, I am the husband of Nirali Bhatia. My wife died on Eden Prime, fighting the geth. Ambassador Udina gave me your comm number."

She remember Udina's remarks about casualties from Eden Prime and the bodies, and now knew why the man's name was familiar – Nirali was one of Ash's friends, who had died a horrible death by some kind of geth plasma flamethrower. "Yes, sir. I am sorry for your loss, your wife's sacrifice helped to enable us to stop the geth from blowing up the entire colony."

The man's face twisted further into sorrow, and confusion. "I know, Commander. But the Alliance will not let me have my wife's body for burial. They say the weapons used on her were unusual and they are holding it for tests... and they have no way of knowing how long the tests will take , or if there will be anything left to b-bury." His jaw trembled as he fought to keep his composure, eyes rimmed with unshed tears. He swallowed after taking a deep breath. "She wanted so much to be a soldier, even with the stress it caused. All I wanted to do was bury her, and..."

He trailed off, brokenly, and Shepard felt herself shaking. It was anger- the old, burning anger that flooded her, again and again, as the Alliance had used her men and left them to die.

She shook her head, and looked into the man's eyes. "Sir, I don't know what they are doing, or why they think this is acceptable, but I give you my word, before the end of the day you will have your wife's body or I'll be in a goddamned jail cell. I've never heard of anything that fucked up, and whoever is behind it will apologize to you for your loss."

The man looked absurdly grateful, placing his hands together in ritual-looking manner. "Thank you, Commander. My comm number is 650-A-EdnPrm, if you... need me for anything, please call." He ended the message, and Shepard shook her head again, angrily, and slid out from the booth.

As she came to her feet, she saw Liara listlessly walk back in. Something about the little asari was different. She looked broken, had apparently been crying, and the elegance and innocent grace of her walk was gone, replaced with... fatigue and something else. Shepard frowned, walking up to her, and Liara looked up.

"Shepard… I… I think I should just... return to the ship."

Shepard frowned at the flatness in her voice. "What happened?"

Liara's face, open and hurt, twisted into a small, sad smile. "My family just disowned me. Or I them. I have been told not to come home, that my government wants to arrest me and 'question' me, and that my own remaining family members blame me for my mother's actions."

Shepard wondered if the sovereign forces of the universe were just trying to make her angry today, and if so, they were on the right track. The anger gibbered inside of her, demanding a release, and Shepard clamped down on it, instead getting right in Liara's face, lifting her chin to stare directly into her eyes.

She didn't even really know what she was saying; the emotions and words, for once in her life, just synched up effortlessly. "Listen to me, Liara. You're not your mother, and you are not responsible for what she's become. Whatever she did, why she did it, are questions only she knows. I've seen _you_, remember? The lonely hours spent in digs, wondering if you've thrown away your life, the isolation, the sense of not fitting in anywhere." Her eyes probed Liara's gaze , and she was rewarded by a flicker of... something.

She plunged on. "I don't care what other people think about you. Right now you're one of the few people in the damned galaxy I can just talk to, and not end up having them turn what I say against me, or hold me to some kind of ridiculous, heroic standard. I can just be me with you. I... like talking to you. As stupid as that sounds. And I know, above all else, how bad it hurt you when you realized she was the enemy."

Liara sighed, but she was also blushing now. Shepard wouldn't let her look away. "If you think this is just me talking to make you feel good, or like me, or something ridiculous, it isn't. I don't have real _friends. _The last batch threw me away when I did something stupid. Anderson... God, I can't even explain it, he believes in me when I'm not even worth it, and pushes me to be better when I doubt myself., But I don't know _why_. I pal around with Garrus and Wrex but they understand me about as well as they do mass energy physics. And Ash, well... she's the first person to reach out to me that way, in my whole life, but half of that is still misplaced hero worship. "

Shepard let her go. "I was angry when your mind-to-mind thing slipped up, but right now, you're the only person who gets me. I... I hate saying things like that. I don't get myself, I don't get other people. I say stupid shit when I mean something else entirely and I've been lonely and suffering from command fatigue. I've just been flat out fucking _tired _way, way too long to think I'm … all there anymore. But at least with you, I might figure out how to get what's in my head out. Or heart. Or whatever. Fuck."

Liara gently placed her hand on Shepard's arm. "T-thank you. I would like to think you are my friend, Sara. But I cannot help but wonder if my family is right, about the time I wasted in my life, or the ugly truth that I am all alone now."

Shepard knew that feeling, had experienced it kneeling in the dirt of a dingy bar when the only family she'd known had turned and walked away. She said the words she wished so badly someone had said to her: "You aren't alone, Liara. I may not understand you any better than I do myself, but I'll be damned before I let someone go through what I've been through thinking they don't fucking matter."

Liara's huge blue eyes were fixed on hers, trusting and broken and deep, and Shepard couldn't look away for a long, long moment. Words and emotions bubbled in a useless, flailing froth in the back of her head, unable to spill forth. _This is ridiculous. You've known her for barely two weeks. You can't keep your eyes off of her because you haven't gotten laid in goddamn years. _

She placed both hands on the asari's shoulders, and forced a smile. "Ashley told me that's what friends are for, to take each other's heavy problems. You're not some kind of burden. You haven't been- how did you put it that time? 'Foisted off' on to me. You're here, helping us chase Saren, because I trust you, need your help, and you deserve to be here."

Liara shyly returned the smile, and with that glance the sense of trust the asari had in her, all put into a single look, something inside Shepard twisted, broke, and shattered into a billion pieces. Some ugly black wall, some chain forged of the dark and ugly thing she was and always would be, let go its grip. _Or perhaps you've just wanted someone to look at you that way all your life, and it took someone almost as broken as you to do so and mean it._

Liara, for her part, felt like a bag of broken glass, her knees shaking in emotional fatigue, as she drank in the unwavering iron gaze of the woman before of her. The casual, hateful words of her cousin, the ugly realization she didn't even own anything but a few sets of clothes and some science tools, the worry that she was responsible for her mother's fall – had nearly broken her in minutes, but Liara drew strength from the commander's words.

_She needs me. I have a task to finish. _She knew, inside, how hard such words must have been for the commander, terrified of saying the wrong thing, unable to articulate whatever was in her head, and Liara bit her lip as she tried to find the courage to make the same kind of step, to just admit she was –

_In love? No, she would not believe me. I don't know even if that's the right word. Fascination sounds clinical, infatuation sounds... dirty. _A sigh escaped her lips, as she forced herself to stand up straight.

"T-thank you, Sara. I... I do not know what to say. How do you react to losing your home and family, to having… nowhere to go when this is all over? I am glad I am useful to your search for Saren a-and that you f-find me easy to t-t-talk... to…" Liara trailed off in panicked stuttering, trying to will herself to say something, anything as touching and heartfelt as Shepard had said.

The human woman smiled, a bit sadly. "Calm down, Liara. I just..." Internally, Shepard sighed, but forced her smile to widen. "You need a drink, I think." She steered Liara back to their booth, seating her with a firm pressure to the shoulder, before glancing meaningfully at the bartender.

The little volus waddled over, his gleaming black and white suit impeccably clean and stylish. "Ah, the famous Commander Shepard." _-shhk-_ "Welcome back to Flux. I am Doran." _-shhk-_ "What can I get you?"

Shepard pointed to Liara with a raised eyebrow. "The strongest you've got in a bottle for an asari, and split Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker Black Label for me, on ice." The volus nodded, and departed.

She glanced around, hoping no one had heard her name, and thankfully, no one sitting near had been paying any attention. Turning back to Liara, she watched helplessly as the asari wiped tears from her cheeks, before glancing up at Shepard. "I am sorry… I must look like a weak f-fool."

Shepard shook her head, sighing. "I've never thought you were weak, Liara. A weak person couldn't biotically bitch slap a geth armature, or endure decades of isolation in pursuit of the truth. A weak person wouldn't be able to stand up and fight their own mother like you did. Don't you ever just... accept that your achievements mean something ? You were right about the Prothean extinctions, and you figured it out with no support or proof. Hell, in half an hour you figured out the Thorian probably wasn't unique, and you just toss it off as a 'silly errand.' You have to start believing in yourself."

Liara sighed. "It is not… so simple. You are a leader, you have had to prove yourself your entire life. I have lived a life that is the very avoidance of validation. You had to defend yourself against armies trying to end your life, the hatred of your own people, and the grieving relatives of those who died. Fighting peer review recommendations or complaining about my ability to dig up Prothean history is not even the same sort of… fight." Liara's voice trailed off, and she rubbed her neck. "I must sound like a whining child, upset that my family has tired of me when untold thousands of people had their families killed on Eden Prime and on Feros."

Shepard shook her head, remembering something Anderson had said. "Anderson once came to me after all the shit at Torfan. Back then, I just kept every emotion except anger in tight rein. That battle was a nightmare. I'd lost almost everything important to me, and I was being held as a war criminal, with the expectation I'd be dishonorably discharged, shipped back to the Penal Legions, and shot in the head in a 'training accident'. I didn't even care anymore, I was just... empty."

Shepard withdrew a cigarette from her pack, lighting it with slightly trembling fingers. "I was sitting in a goddamned hospital, staring at the walls mindlessly. I just wanted to die. Nothing mattered... everything I'd fought for my whole life had been blown away. He came in, sat next to me, and said words I keep repeating to myself whenever I get down."

Shepard closed her eyes, hearing his baritone voice in her head, feeling the almost tangible belief and faith he had in her. "He said, 'Feeling sorry for yourself for being who you are just proves them right. Don't. _Fight_, and make them _see_ who you are.'"

Liara swallowed. "And what if I _am_ nothing?" She held up one hand, a sad smile flitting across her perfect features. "What if I am merely a failure, and nothing I set my hand to succeeds?"

Shepard reached out, taking the slender blue hand I her own, the cool flesh trembling in her grip. "Then you get angry, and remember the good times, and the faith people have in you. You don't feel sorry for who you are. You prove the people who believe in you right, no matter how much that hurts, because you can't let them down."

Liara's eyes closed, her mother's voice ringing in her head. '_She is my daughter, and no matter what she decides to become, she will be great. I will always be proud of you, Little Wing_.' A sigh of pain slipped from her, and she wiped more tears from her eyes with a shaking motion. "It hurts to do so."

Shepard nodded, as the volus brought their drinks. She let go of Liara's hand to grab her drink, and slammed it back, feeling the powerful mixed whiskey tear into her body. "Yeah well... feeling hurts. That's… ha... That's how you know it matters."

Liara regarded the slender glass of pris para for a long moment before following Shepard's lead, letting the fiery liquor slide down her throat to ignite in her belly. She sighed, and Shepard saw the tension in her face recede just a fraction.

_Getting blasted with a depressed, upset beautiful alien teen who is crushing on you is just a really, really bad idea. _

With a smirk, she gestured to Doran again. "Might as well bring the fucking bottles, volus. Gonna be here a while. Make mine scotch."

Liara glanced across at her, expression unreadable. "I am... not usually a heavy drinker, Sara. The last time I got heavily inebriated was just before my near capture on Therum."

Shepard shrugged. "Yeah, neither am I. Anderson drank all the time, and I'm starting to understand why." She smiled at the volus as he brought a bottle of scotch, and a second curved blue glass bottle filled with faintly green liquid. "Like I give a shit. Bottoms up."

Liara blushed. "I... ah..." She stammered in an extremely agitated manner, and Shepard frowned. Mortified, Liara finally spat out, "I-is that s-some kind of... sexual slang?"

Shepard couldn't help but erupt into laughter. "Oh god, you're adorable. No, it's a... way of saying 'drink up'. Sorry."

The flush on the asari's cheeks deepened. "I seem to have a very good ability at making a fool of myself..." She poured herself a second drink, bracing her hand on the table before draining the glass, and Shepard grinned as the asari's eyes unfocused. She puffed on her cigarette, letting the taste of the tobacco blend with that of her drink, and let her grin become a smile.

"We're all fools, Liara. All lost in the flow of every day struggles. Best you can do is find a moment of calm, perhaps even joy, before death takes everything." She poured scotch into the tumbler the volus had provided, and hoped for the best. "Besides, we can play a game of how many awkward statements we can make in an hour or two of drinking." She drained her own glass, and the asari's lips curved in amusement.

Liara considered the bottle of strong asari liquor in front of her, and poured again. _Merciful oblivion… or drunken confessions? Which do I hope for tonight? Perhaps the best plan is to stop thinking and start drinking. _She let the smile spread on her face, and drained the glass. "I... how did you... manage to keep going after your... first crew abandoned you for being you?"

Shepard felt a jolt of pain, muted by the alcohol . She gave a sad smile, laced with irony. "Shit, who said I did? There are times I feel like I was dead from Torfan until the day we landed on Eden Prime., Dead and just shuffling along like a zombie." She pondered her scotch, then glanced up at the blue vision of beauty sitting across from her.

"But mostly, I got by just by focusing on one day at a time. Still am, really, Liara. That's all you can do. One day at time, finding little things to fight for, to believe in, and to... hang on to."


	62. Chapter 53: Eingana, Arrival

_**A/N**: This is the first seriously AU mission. Rather than pointlessly hunting down whatever small chores Hackett has for us ("Shepard. We need your help. I can't find my toupee") , the Normandy will be either whittling down Saren's support or tracing his movements. On occasion some of the missions will tie in, but they'll have a clearer connection to Saren. _

_Eingana's little blurb about the Tho'ian always intrigued me , but so did the fact that Liara never got to really show off how smart she was in the game. Liara's no hardened soldier, but she is a scientist and using that should have been .. something we got to see. _

_The next chapter will probably go out this weekend or Monday. Finally, the Fic of the Day is by **Something Like Home** by tarysande. Garrus fic, but very .. touching. And of course, if you haven't been reading **Without an end** by Bebus, you're some kind of husk. The most recent chapter is , perhaps, one of the best I've ever read. _

* * *

"Normandy, you are cleared for departure."

Joker ran his hands across the haptic controls in front of him, his features cast in a golden glow as he brought up the primary navigation control panels. "Acknowledged, Alliance tower. Disengaging docking clamps, beginning retrograde movement."

Shepard stood behind him in the cockpit, waiting for the ship to move before taking down the mic for the 1MC. "All hands, this is the commander. First of all, I want to thank you all for giving everything you had at Feros. We took some hard hits – namely, Dr. T'Soni and I almost died – and we got close to suffering the same fate as the colony or the Citadel Fleet."

She paused a moment, her voice growing stern. "That is why I declared a three-day shore leave, and that's why, although some of you got into a great deal of trouble or otherwise violated regs, no captain's masts or reprimands are coming down. We weren't ready, and we got lucky. Everyone deserves to blow off a little steam... let's just avoid doing it naked in the elevators, shall we?"

She heard sniggers and laughter in the ops alley, and let it die down before continuing.

"I don't intend to rely on luck twice. Right now we're headed to Eingana. We're going to be doing some research, following up on leads we developed on Feros, and then coming back to the Citadel, very briefly, to on-load equipment. During transit there and back, we'll be running shipboard combat, damage control, and engineering exercises. Upon return to the Citadel, we will dock only long enough to load the supplies and equipment. "

"The equipment we'll get includes top of the line battle armor for every member of the ground team and the Marine contingent on board, and durable, upgraded suits for every single crewman on the ship. We're ditching the Onyx and Avengers for Crossfire rifles, flame units, grenades, and Predator battle armor. Your platoon chiefs will be meeting with you to discuss promotions and the possibility of rating changes."

She thinned her lips, and spoke again, more softly. "Once we finish up with Eingana and the Citadel, we'll be headed out to follow up on a request from Rear Admiral Kahoku. We are going in to battle against Cerberus, and we're going to be outnumbered and possibly outgunned. Every member of the team – be it ground-side or space-side – has to be ready to give everything to ensure our success. I do not accept or tolerate failure. You all know my history. You all know what I've had to do. And by now, you should all know that if we fail Saren will kill our families, and friends He will destroy our homes in the name of whatever twisted scheme is in his head."

"Department heads, council observers, and squad leaders meet me at 1400 hours." She paused, then added "Lieutenant Alenko, report to my office immediately. That is all."

Joker waited until she was done to speak up. "We've cleared the docks and ring, commander. All systems nominal, alignment on Widow mass relay is 98%."

Shepard nodded. "Pressley has the deck, jump on his say-so, Flight Lieutenant. I don't wish to be bothered until the 1400 duty meeting." She walked down the ops alley, taking note of the crew's posture. They looked relaxed, a bit tired, but calm. The motions of the men and women in her command were crisp and efficient, and she nodded to herself as she headed to the stairs.

Arriving in her stateroom, she had enough time to sit at her desk before the door chime sounded. "Come!"

Kaidan entered, in his dress blues, freshly pressed. His hair was neatly trimmed, but he looked pale and worried. "Lieutenant Alenko, reporting, Ma'am."

Shepard stood, in a single, lithe move, crossing the cabin. "Lieutenant, what the hell were you thinking?"

Kaidan swallowed, staring straight ahead. "I ..don't have an excuse, ma'am. I would point out that I was inebriated." His voice was stiff, but stable, and Shepard sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"At ease, Lieutenant." Alenko fractionally relaxed, folding his arms behind him, and Shepard stalked over to the wall, leaning against it almost tiredly. "I'm not even sure where to fucking begin. First, you're my BDO. You're the guy I trust to lead my jarheads when I'm off with the aliens. You're supposed to be someone who puts the needs of the goddamned squad ahead of everything else."

Kaidan glanced down. "I know, ma'am."

Shepard snorted. "If you fucking knew, why'd you do it? See, Ash I can give a pass on. She just watched her entire unit get fucked into the ground by geth, not two weeks ago. She watched her colony get set on fire. She's spent her whole career being fucked over by the SA admiralty because of something her grandfather did. And she's hurting inside, because of all of that shit. Even _I _can see that. Doing something stupid like 'the Deed' with her superior officer? Dumb, but hey, I get it."

Shepard paced, flinging a hand out in icy agitation. "But you? You're not some stupid fucking lug, fit only to haul around a gun. You've got FIVE goddamned ratings. C5 biotic specialist, A3 infantry clearance. P3 weapons, a damned D5 ODT, and H1 medic. You have a freaking masters' degree according to your records."

Kaidan looked up, exhaling. "Yes, ma'am."

Shepard got in his face, eyes narrowed. And, he realized, those eyes weren't just angry, but hurt and disappointed. Her voice took on an edge of despair as she spoke. "I've got crazy shit going on all around me. The SA admirals are all over my ass because I'm not _smooth_ enough for whatever the fuck they want from me. Udina tells me they're basically expecting me to fail. Thanks to his bitch of a wife, Pressly's a wreck, and thanks to her family, Dr. T'Soni is going to goddamned pieces just when I need her to decipher goddamned alien... shit. I've got crazy black-ops groups plotting God only knows what, fucked up protestors stalking me, one of the only friends I had left in the universe ups and _vanishes, _leaving me a note saying not much more than 'deuces, bitch'."

She exhaled, still staring at him. "And now, as if this situation was not fucked up enough, as if my limited ability to get this job done is not narrow enough, the one guy I need to be rock fucking solid, my Battle Duty Officer, is banging his direct subordinate, right before major combat operations. Saying you fucked up isn't good enough. I fucked up once. The bitch deliberately seduced me, and lead me astray. I got my unit killed. So, are you honestly going to tell me you can't even control your dick?"

Alenko exhaled, closing his eyes. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am."

Shepard waved an agitated hand. "Speak, for fuck's sake."

Alenko nodded. "I... I'm dying, Shepard. Slowly." He gave a small smile at the suddenly shocked look on Shepard's face, continuing in an almost dead voice. "I told you before that L2's have a lot of problems, and I got off easy with just migraines. That's true. Sort of. I also have Degenerative Neural Dissociative Disorder. Every day, the eezo nodes in my brain leech away at my neurons. One day the entire chemistry of my brain will just come apart. I could go crazy, or turn into a vegetable, or just start forgetting who I am."

Shepard exhaled. "Why the fuck doesn't your record say anything?"

Alenko sighed. "The diagnosis wasn't made by Alliance doctors. I had an episode on my last transfer, before being assigned to the Normandy. I blacked out while traveling back to Earth, and I came to in a medical office on Omega. A salarian doctor discovered it." He shrugged, weakly. "He said t that it was almost certainly going to happen in the next two years."

Alenko brought his hands up, gesturing to the ship. "I guess I could have reported it, but the Alliance would have scrubbed me from active duty. I'd have been medically discharged, and sent home to stare death in the face, waiting uselessly. I can't do that, Shepard."

The young lieutenant gave a sad smile. "So yeah. I fucked up bad with Ash. I had sex with another human being who was hurting and maybe I gave her—and myself—something to remember. Maybe I was lonely and scared from damn near dying on Feros, or maybe I did what I did because, well, I'm not going to be around much longer. I know it was unprofessional and could cause problems, and I can't make any excuses, and if you think it's safer with me off the ship I won't argue."

Shepard rubbed her temples. "Jesus fucking Christ, Alenko. What... did you tell Ash?"

Kaidan sighed. "I didn't tell her anything about it. It's... not like we're dating. I wasn't planning on it happening, and after, I just figured, one way or another, this thing would be over and it would be a better time to talk about it. And honestly, Commander … with Saren out there, geth, Cerberus... does it matter?"

Shepard gave a hollow, tired sounding laugh. "No, it doesn't really matter, Lieutenant." She glanced up, and all the depth, the tiredness, the anger, even the disappointment he'd seen in her gaze was gone. Those blue eyes were cold, empty, and calm. "If you can't pull your weight, I'll dump you. If you endanger the crew or the mission, I'll kill you myself. If you can't keep your judgment clear where Chief Williams is involved, you're useless to me. Am I clear?"

Kaidan managed, barely, to suppress a shiver. "Yes, ma'am. Crystal clear."

Shepard gestured to the chair at the small table in the corner. "Sit your ass down." She waited until he did so, hands on his knees, and then turned to face him more fully. "I am... not handling this well. We haven't even started and that turian bastard has beaten us twice already. I can't even get any more goddamned marines or a single SAIS agent, because my own goddamned government still sees me as little more than a thug."

She angrily shoved her hair back out of her face, eyes flicking left and right. "Alenko, I've been trying, really hard, to... do this the right way. Pushing myself way outside my comfort zone with people. Making myself talk to the crew, the aliens, everybody. Not tearing people's heads off for stupid shit. Risking the mission on Therum instead of just having your platoon draw fire from us."

She looked up, the planes of her face set like stone. "I can't do it if I can't be sure people have my back one hundred percent. I'll sacrifice every mother fucking person on this boat over a goddamned altar with a stone knife if it's required to stop Saren, but I don't _want _to. I'm fucking tired of having to be covered in other people's blood to get the job done. I want this to go right so I can . . . be something else. _Anything_ else. But that won't happen if my own people _hide the fact that they are fucking DYING!_" The last was uttered in a howl of almost liquid rage, the eyes slitted and yet almost on fire with unspent emotion. She stood akimbo, weight slanted to one side, hands curled into fists and tendons standing out on her muscled arms.

Kaidan said nothing, brown eyes large and liquid, wondering how much pressure Shepard was under. Then he shook his head and spoke, carefully picking every word. "I don't think any of us really get what the pressure must be like, Ma'am. I know we all have our regrets. Mine was in biotic training, under Conatix. I did something, in a moment of rage, that cost me the respect of someone that mattered, and cost someone else their life."

He squared his shoulders. "But the whole reason I didn't say much about my condition is the same thing you just said. I'm not going to quit, or just lay back and let things happen. You have everything I have left, Commander. I could be with my family, spending however it is long I have left in comfort. But I'm here, knowing I could get taken out tomorrow."

Kaidan glanced away, folding his hands, nervously. "Every member of the Normandy crew knows your history. We know that, like you said, when push comes to shove, you'll shove. We've all seen the vids, heard the rumors, walked past the protestors. If I thought what I was going through would affect the mission, I'd have told you. But if I'm going to die no matter what, I want to go out on my feet. I want to die hard, and die like a Marine should."

Kaidan looked back at her. "What happened with Ash won't affect the mission. If you think it will, you have the authority to brevet Master Chief Cole. He's got years more experience than me. Brevet him to Lieutenant Commander and put me in charge of his platoon, and then I'm not in charge of Ash any longer."

Shepard gave Kaidan a long, searching look, before shaking her head. "First time you fuck up, that's exactly what I'm going to do, if I don't just shoot your ass. Don't make me regret this, Lieutenant Alenko. You are dismissed. Be at the 1400 meeting in standard BDU's." She straightened her posture as Alenko stood and saluted.

"Thank you, ma'am." He turned on a heel and left, the door hissing shut behind him a moment later.

Shepard rubbed her forehead gingerly, and pulled out a cigarette. "What the fuck else can go wrong?"

O-OSaBC-O

_Had to ask yourself that question, didn't you, silly bitch?_

Shepard stared at the sensor readings from Eingana, as the Normandy orbited in stealth over the green tinted garden world. Pale oceans of greyish water lapped at shores of black sand, and the ruins of cities and defense installations were overrun by tangled vines, sprouting black bulbs and oddly shaped circular leaves.

The telemetry feed was of the campsite, setup by the University of Lanthas, a turian institution. On the world searching for Inusannon weapons systems or at least ideas, the team had supposedly been prepared for any problems. 5 talon fighters, a light cruiser with a pair of frigates, and several gunships should have seen off any pirate incursions, and a reinforced detachment of 100 turian soldiers should have equally been up to the task of fighting off anything that landed covertly.

The campsite was, instead, eerily empty. The Normandy did not usually have remote scouting capabilities, but Tali'Zorah had painstakingly spent money and time on the Citadel, working with Joker to build a remote scouting drone. The drone, nicknamed Sleepy due to the half-lidded armored shell, hovered silently past empty tents.

"We're not picking up any radio signatures of any kind, Commander. Spectro search of low orbit and La Grange points has turned up zilch for orbital debris." Pressly's voice was tight and concerned, as he handed a datapad of scan results back to one of his ops techs. "The comm beacon for the system is untouched. The last communication was a perfectly normal status report less than 6 hours ago."

Shepard nodded. "Well, that's just completely fucking creepy. Joker, pan that drone around the camp."

The flight lieutenant complied, and Shepard studied the image carefully. The turian camp had been built on a heavy bluff of granite overlooking one of the ruined cities. A stream cut into the base of the bluff, and the vegetation – heavy warped looking tree-like things and bizarre ground cover that looked like felt dotted with circular flowers – was burned away in a precise circle 50 yards in all directions from the camp's edges.

Turian field structures, angular and slanted, formed neat rows around a central area, where hexagonal tents had been pitched, then reinforced with sandbags. Two of the field structures were clearly armories for the turian ground troops, as neat racks of rifles and turian lance cannons could be seen stacked along the walls.

There was no blood, no sign of bodies or struggle, not a single sign of anything. They were just... gone. Shepard cursed. "Pressly, pack this video up along with all our sensor logs, put it out on the comm beacon for immediate transmission. " Pressly nodded, turning away, and Shepard tapped the comms console. "Liara, are you tapped into the drone's findings?"

Liara's voice sounded softly from the speaker. "I am, Shepard. I am running a scan of the atmosphere."

Shepard frowned. "Why?"

Liara spoke a moment later. "Because I can think of only one reason why everything and everyone at the site would be missing without a fight, Commander. And the scans agree. The atmosphere is heavy with the same spores that were found on Feros. My hypothesis, based on the stonework of the Thorian's chamber matching the debris here, was correct. The only possibility that fits the evidence is that there is another Thorian here, and it has taken the turians as thralls, much as the Feros one did to the colonists."

Shepard sighed, feeling like a fool. "Of course. It took them over... probably spread its infection to the spaceships. Fuck, that's not good." She turned back to the ops deck. "Friggs, punch up the mass relay's jump log. Anything recent?"

The navigator worked swiftly, sending an encoded query pulse to the relay. She frowned, her angular features looking confused. "Not... recently. It hasn't been triggered since one incoming supply vessel arrived 19 days ago. Nothing has left via the mass relay since."

Pressly looked up from preparing his broadcast. "Nav plot shows nothing in FTL range, really. Two empty binary systems and a dwarf star with an old gas giant. Nowhere else to go, and there's no HE3 facilities on this side of the relay. I'd guess those ships are either in system or down on the ground, shut down."

Shepard nodded, and pulled down the 1MC. "All hands, set battle stations. Set stealth, load power to the disruptor torpedoes, and go weapons hot. Marines, suit up for hostile atmospheric insertion. All council observers meet in the comms room ASAP."

O-OSaBC-O

"Here's the plan. We have two working Makos, and I plan to use them both. First squad under Master Chief Cole will deploy with Tali and Liara. You'll land away from the campsite, and the Normandy will cover you. Set up Liara's equipment and set a defensive position. Liara, you'll take your samples and readings, and deploy the marines to recover... items of interest, where possible. Three man teams. Tali, you'll set up and monitor filtration and bio-hazard safety, as well as the comm link."

Shepard glanced at Alenko. "Lieutenant, you, Chief Williams, and Second Squad will land directly at the edge of the camp site. Retrieve any documents, messages, or electronics you can, and transmit in the clear to Liara. Have your squad set defensive positions near the turian armory shack. Once you are secure, I want that command center locked down and comms logs pulled. Alenko, you'll need to keep on top of things as well as make sure your bio-hazard safety is observed."

Shepard sighed. "Garrus, Wrex, you're with me. I've got the drone doing wide area scans, and so far the only thing we've found is tire tracks leading from the command center of the camp towards that ruined city at the base of the cliffs. We're going in to check it out. We'll carry demo charges, incendiary grenades, and flame units. Leave the sniper rifles, and take shotguns. We see what we can find – if its zombies, we burn and pull back. If there's a Thorian in there and it's willing to talk, we talk."

Shepard glanced around the room. "We have no idea if the researchers here knew about the Thorian, but they were pretty well equipped for digging around looking for old weapons tech. Assume the worst. If something points a gun at you, down it. This is not a rescue mission. We've all seen just how nasty these plant fuckers can get, and I have no wish to find out what kind of wonderful shit it can make turians into. Questions?"

Liara spoke first, somewhat hesitantly. "Are we going to assume that this creature is hostile? We did not even get a chance to talk to the last one. Is it possible that the researchers... woke it up, and it is not hostile?"

Shepard shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know or care. It could sing goddamned Christmas carols and bake cookies for small children, and I'd still be inclined to set it on fire. We haven't got our updated gear yet, so the fight would be bad enough, but if the thing has control of turian marines, we'll be facing seriously well-equipped troops in uneven, urban terrain."

She sighed. "We assume hostility and get out as fast we can. If we have to fight the turian ships they brought with them, that's 3 to 1 odds not in our favor." She glanced around the room again. "Any other questions?"

Garrus looked uncomfortable, and finally spoke. "Shepard, are we seriously ruling out trying to rescue anyone? Turian civilians are trained for a fight, but I seriously doubt they knew the risks of dealing with the Thorian."

Shepard shook her head. "If Liara hadn't done analysis on the stonework, we'd never have connected the Tho'ians who fought the Inusannon with the Thorian. The planet's a garden world. They probably never had a goddamned chance, if what I learned from Jeong is right. We can't assume anything right now, Garrus. Once we figure out what the fuck is going on... maybe."

She looked him in the eye. "But I'll be honest with you – I'm not going to pull my punches. We're not going to do anything stupid, like knock turians out and risk infecting the Normandy to save them, and we're not going to break full bio-security for any reason. Once we prep to return, the whole goddamn ship gets vented to vacuum and we'll take a cruise through close solar approach to sterilize the hull."

Garrus made a jerky nod, and Shepard stood. "You've got ten minutes. There's thermal sealant tape, six or seven rolls of it, in the cargo bay. Tape off your suit joints, and take suit breech patches just in case. We don't have a large supply of the drugs needed to clear these spores out of your system, so stay alert." She gestured, and the group broke up, but she paused to touch Wrex's arm, holding him back until the room was empty save for the two of them.

"I don't know what's going on down there, but I need you to keep your eyes open, Wrex. The crew is not used to the idea that killing can be a mercy."

Wrex nodded, red eyes shifting to glance at the door. "The turian smells of conflict, but he'll follow your lead. Soldier-sniffers, the lot of them, turians always do what the leader says do, even if they hate it." The krogan shifted his gaze to Shepard. "You were expecting this to be a simple job, weren't you?"

Shepard exhaled. "Yeah, I was. Stupid of me given how the universe seems to be working on pissing me off."

Wrex laughed. "My first rule is to only take jobs that involve shooting people in the head. My second rule is that if you can't, then expect everything that can go bad to go worse than that." The krogan headed for the doorway. "If we're going to take shotguns, Garrus snagged the shotgun that blue bitch of Saren's had. Might be a good idea to toss it to Liara."

Shepard nodded, thoughtfully, and the krogan departed.


	63. Chapter 54: Eingana, Revelation

_**A/N**: I have some reservations about going in this kind of direction, but there's no real good way to do it. The story needs hard evidence of just how dangerous the Reapers are. _

_Bioware always acted like Shepard had presented the Council with rock solid fact, but until ME2 he didn't present them with much of anything. The frustration that we're supposedly supposed to feel skirts the question : if you were a galactic leader and some guy said alien death machines were coming back to eat everyone unless you suspended the economy and focused on nothing but things to fight them with...how would you react? As a political leader? Hell, as an alien?_

_This time, in my AU, the documentation and the threat is there, mostly found and pieced together by T'Soni, but with the tactical or strategic value thought through by Shepard. When the Council buries it, it's not due to a lack of belief, but rather the belief that announcing it openly would cause chaos, and out of concern for indoctrination. _

_There are TWO Fics of the Day, both newly started and wonderful reads. The first is **A Heart of Darkness** by sepovida, illustrating a cruel, dark and on the surface passionless Shepard leveling with Liara about his true feelings, right before the end of the Reaper War. The second fic is **With Lions** by wolfstar888. This is not my usual sort of piece, and yet I couldn't help but smile and several time break out into open laughter. There's something here, a Shepard who hides behind silliness to hide the pain._

_As usual, if you aren't reading Owelpost and Bebus's work, and Meladark's, you should be turned into a husk. A hanar husk. _

* * *

The Mako was crowded as it fell through the atmosphere of Eingana, the mass effect core flaring and the reaction jets firing constantly to slow its fall. Marines checked bandoleers of frag grenades, and the two flame units were having a diagnostic run on them. Daylight would begin to falter all too quickly, in less than two hours. To approach during nighttime was suicidal, and the alternative – waiting through the forty-four hour day until the next sunrise – simply was impractical.

Shepard stared out the slanted, smoked glass windshield of the Mako at the rapidly approaching terrain below. The landing site the turians had chosen was at the base of a series of tall, jagged cliffs overlooking the ruins of what must have been a large city. The buildings that remained were mostly sharp, weathered blue and black stumps, but here and there were curved, alien arches and almost bulbous reinforced pods jutting up from the ground.

A river of gray, sluggish water wound in a sinuous ribbon through the city, wearing patiently away at the granite of the cliffs for miles before draining into a large lake, its banks deformed by huge craters from some kind of impact weapon. The ancient lines of some kind of ground transport network crisscrossed the river in places, a wide path of flat terrain lined with scraps of buildings leading towards a break in the cliffs. Atop the cliffs the turian camp perched defiantly, separated from the creeping vegetation by a broad swath of burned ground.

_Excellent defensive set up. No way to sneak up, clear lines of overlapping fire, and water right there as long as you have a purifier. _

And everywhere, crumpled into piles, smashed into strips of wreckage, or merely hulking in the distance, were the wreckage of ships. Hundreds of them. They fell into two broad styles, still discernible despite the eon-long time since they'd crashed. Some were long, smooth lines and curves defining their edges, and with tubular segments sweeping forward. Studded with pods and curves, they were clearly related to the few standing buildings. The other ships were best described as subtly wrong. Their angles were too obtuse, their hulls a deep, inky black that shone with a dim yellow sheen where the light caught it, mottled with what looked like dark patches of blue here and there. Openings vented to space irregularly, their lines organic, almost looking like something grown. Here, the edge of a wing-like structure was lined in something like snake scales; there, the upper concave portion of what was command deck had the curve of a skull's eye sockets.

The wrecks were covered in the rapidly growing vegetation, except in a few places where the ground was discolored by the sparkling blue of eezo. There, nothing grew, and nothing existed save bare dirt, even rock leeching to dust under its power.

The vegetation was concerning – most of it was slowly ambulatory, snapping serrated vines out to slash and snap at anything moving. The fauna they'd seen from the drone was even more frightening. Mutated by chemicals and altered by eezo dust for over a hundred thousand years, the animals were heavily plated, often biotic, and very aggressive. A pack of some six-legged beasts the size of horses, but with armored plates and two foot long spikes angled forward on their shoulders, rambled around the city's edges, insolently nibbling on plants, ignoring the feeble strikes from vines and fruit that exploded into spores.

With a heavy thud and a whiplash motion that made several marines curse the designer, the Mako landed, skidding in thick muck to a slow halt. Shepard punched up the machine's damage control readout and saw no warnings. "We're down. Mako-2, report."

The dry voice of Garrus rumbled out of the comm panel. "I remain amazed you primitives never thought to build landing shuttles, but this thing came down safely. We're outside the camp now. No sign of movement. No damage."

Shepard nodded to herself, and keyed the comm to the other Mako to keep it open. "Listen up. Team One is on the cliffs. They're going to be searching for what they can find up there. Team Two will stay with Dr. T'Soni as she examines the spaceship wreckage for clues. Keep the Mako's scanners going, and ensure comms aren't disrupted. Whatever happened down here was bad, and it happened fast enough that no one had a chance to get a call for help off."

She checked the incendiary impact load on her ODIN, and snapped her helmet into place. "Maintain full bio-safety at all times. No exceptions, no excuses. Full decon before you get into the Mako, and vacuum decon with bleach and UV when we hit the Normandy upon return."

She glanced around, watching as helmets were put on, and thermal tape snugged around gaps. "One final thing. There's every possibility that the Turians may be under the control of an alien life form, one we saw on Feros. If they make any, I repeat, any hostile motions, gestures, or statements of any kind, deadly force is authorized. Do not hesitate. Do not check and do not call for permission." She glanced at the comms panel, knowing Garrus was unhappy about this.

Surprisingly, he spoke. "If you have to shoot to kill a turian, don't bother with body shots. Shoot at the hip or the head. Standard turian military response to intruders is to level a weapon in your direction and demand you halt and announce your presence. Commander, the weapon pointing is not necessarily a hostile response, but if they go hot our rifles shift the battle optics from orange to blue."

Shepard nodded. "Everyone got that? If they react like normal turians, face them in prudent shield defensive posture. No heroics. Your primary objectives are to defend Dr. T'Soni, Tali'Zorah and her comm equipment setup, and the Makos, in that order. The secondary objectives for Team One are to locate and identify intel in the turian camp, either on their research or what happened to them. Team Two is to assist Liara with whatever she needs in her examination."

She glanced at Wrex. "Once we've gotten secure here, and located what we can from the sites, Mako-2 will drive to our location. You'll set up a battle line behind the Makos, and I'll go in with Garrus, Wrex, and probably Cole. The tracks the drone spotted head to one of the few large intact buildings in the city. Given the shit we ran into on Feros, leading a large amount of Marines into close quarters combat is... not advisable. If we come running, get ready to hold out and use stand-off tactics."

She patted the top of her helmet. "Seal up, DETA filters on. Let's go."

O-OSaBC-O

Garrus had done lots of dangerous things in his life. He'd performed counter-sniper infiltration under artillery fire in the turian military, gone hand-to-hand against a krogan arms smuggler on the Citadel, and been chased by two gunships in a light fighter for the few months he'd worked on C-Sec Border security. He'd been in ships that had been holed and were on fire from stem to stern and seen the awful light of disruptor torpedoes slamming into a cruiser.

But the eerie, almost pregnant silence , slowly fading sunlight outside, and the perfect condition of the camp of the archeology team was enough to send shake-shivers across all his plates, and his fringe was as stiff as iron rods as he took in the surroundings.

Three-man teams spread out across the Turian camp, investigating. They found ration packs neatly stacked, the curved cots that fit a turian spine neatly made, and pictures of little turian kids or slender, willowy turian females tacked up on walls. The armory was spotless enough that even Williams seemed jealous. "Jeez, Detective, your soldiers make humans look like slobs."

Garrus shrugged. "Turians like a neat campsite, but... this is off, even for us. This is the sort of thing you'd see at a training brigade, or talon guard unit, not a field expedition." He paused, glancing around. "There's no unit designations _anywhere. _No spirit marks, no colony flags, nothing."

Williams snorted. "Well, it's good to know not all turians have a stick up their ass. Sir." Garrus glanced over his shoulder, but he gave a chuckle as well. For all the distrust the human soldier seemed to have of aliens in general, at least the past few weeks had seen her soften the tiniest bit towards him, personally.

Garrus lead Williams and Specialist Jackson inside the turian command center. The building was made of cheap, omni-gel shaped plascrete, poured in preset shapes and fitted together with bolts and clamps of hardened omni-gel. The doors slid open smoothly, and Garrus took point. "We've used the same command layout for a thousand years. There will be a secure armory and a medbay on the left, the commander's office and quarters on the right, and then a set of stairs. At the top is a circular command center. Coming off of that like claws are the comms room, power systems, sensor array room, and unit shrine."

Williams made a small coughing noise. "Unit shrine, sir?"

Garrus flicked a mandible behind his opaque faceplate. "Every turian military unit has a personal spirit, the history of the unit and its sacrifices embodied in the shrine." He aimed his Avenger assault rifle down the hallway, and frowned. "Let's check the secure armory first. Outside would only be battle rifles and the lance cannons, but not the lance cannon locks or heavy weapons. If they got into a fight, they'd have expended munitions and that would be tracked in the armory computers."

Specialist Jackson shrugged. A big man even for a Marine, his drawling accent was made less harmless sounding by the menacing grumble of his voice. "Hell, turians sure don't fuck around when it comes to guns, do ya? Lance cannons?"

Garrus gave a small chuckle, and reached the secure armory door. It was a hexagon, outlined in bright red, with the turian symbols and script for danger imprinted on the metal. He frowned and pulled up his omnitool to access the door lock systems, searching for his C-Sec lockpick program. "Turians don't have heavy support weapon specialists like the human military, Specialist. Everyone has to be able to pick up any job at a moment's notice. Lance cannons are pretty much point and shoot and then dead guys everywhere." He paused, the omnitool's readout beeping as it worked the decryption on the lock. "Course, that's why we keep the firing keys securely locked up."

The door hissed open, and Garrus stepped in, but came to an immediate halt. Tapping his comms, he contacted Shepard. "We have a problem, Commander. The outside armory is fully stocked, but the secure armory has been… well, wrecked."

He gazed around the room. The rack of double-action Phaeston assault rifles was untouched, dust free and in perfect shape. But the long box that held the lance cannon keys had been literally ripped open and the small crystalline objects were in shards on the floor. The Vakian cyclical assault cannons were bent and twisted, and the two Heixon heavy rocket launchers were similarly crumpled and broken. The armory computer was smashed, and a pile of burned data cards were in a pile of ashes next to it. "The heavy weapons are all destroyed, along with the lance cannon keys. Armory computer and backups are trashed." He paused. "The armory was … securely locked, Shepard. That means the soldiers who were here did this, then locked it back up."

Shepard's voice crackled in his helmet. "Why the fuck would they wreck their heavy guns but not their standard weapons, then lock it all back up? What the hell is going on?"

Garrus sighed, and clicked over to the inter-squad channel. "Trio 1, anything?"

The first three-man team was going through the tents and prefabs. Sergeant Jacobs spoke. "We got nothing making sense. Everything is picture perfect, except there's a locker full of smashed data pads, like… crushed so bad you can't salvage dick from them. Other than that, nothing. No blood, no bodies, no sign of struggle."

Garrus flicked a mandible in irritation. "Trio 2?"

The other three-man team was going through the science lab area. The female corporal in charge sounded tired. "Lots of notes on the alien ships. Got some more busted up data-pads, like the other guys, but some data pads are fine. We're going through them and uploading 'em to Doctor T'Soni."

Shepard broke in on the line. "Good. Liara, found anything yet?"

The dulcet tones of the asari sounded worried and distant. "Yes, but I am still… piecing things together. The turians did some light excavating around the dreadnaught not far from the city. There are lots of tire-tracks, some trash... but no people. Their results are... I will need to review some of what Corporal Tanner has sent me."

Shepard sighed, her voice sharpening. "Tali, comms status?"

The perky voice of the quarian made Garrus smile with its enthusiasm. "The comms link is stable and we're uploading to the Normandy, Commander. I'm… not picking up any other active communications. I've got the drone up in the air, keeping an eye on the wildlife, but they aren't coming any closer. The Mako's sensor suite is not very good, but I have active LADAR working. No contacts."

Shepard barked a few orders at the other search teams, and Garrus turned to Williams and Jackson. "Let's keep moving. Commander's office is next." He walked carefully across the narrow corridor, trying the door and then easing it open with the muzzle of his rifle. His eyepiece lit up the dark interior automatically, and he stepped inside fully, sweeping the room once for motion before hitting the light switch.

The commander's office was fairly small, and the floor was plastic sheeting. The prefab walls had been sprayed with a bronze color, and a unit flag was hung on the wall, green edged in black, triangular, and embossed with a white turian hand drawn into a fist. His claw touched the cloth, hesitantly, then jerked back as if burned.

Williams and Jackson both gave him a look, but he ignored them, his mind racing. _Spirits of fire, no wonder everything is so precise and perfect. _

Garrus swallowed, keying his mic. "Shepard... more problems. This wasn't some backwater set of auxiliaries guarding this camp. This was the Third Palaven Heavy Infantry."

Shepard's voice was a bit breathy, as she grunted. "Sorry, moving some wreckage. Third Palaven, huh? Is that like our Honor Guard? Mostly a mix of bad asses usually doing ceremonial duty?"

Garrus shook his head absently to himself before rolling his eyes at his own stupidity and talking instead. "Not... exactly. The Third Palaven was, ah, dishonored during a colony rebellion some thirty years ago. They were overrun and, instead of holding the line like they were supposed to, actually broke. Utterly disgraceful. Mind you, all of the officers had been killed or, worse, joined the rebels, but... it was shocking nonetheless."

Williams frowned, speaking on the comm herself. "I thought turians never broke."

Garrus gave an uncomfortable shrug. "There were rumors that the rebels had poisoned the ground water with some kind of mind-affecting drug, and lots of people believe that's why they broke. Regardless, they'd shamed themselves in a fashion almost nothing could ever rectify. Since then, the worst have been assigned duty to the unit." Garrus hesitated, then finally traced an armored hand over the cloth.

Shepard's voice was grim. "Your version of the Penal Legions, then."

Garrus winced. "More… ah, politically reliable, but yes, basically. Given the worst jobs, the worst people. Sent out to die to expiate the unit's shame. To dispatch the Third is to imply whatever needs to be done is usually dangerous... and yet, not worth sending a real military unit. Politically, it would have been a tremendous insult to the University of Lanthas." He swallowed. "I'm not sure what the University did to warrant such a snub, but it would have made working here difficult. The Third is , well... it's as close as a turian can get to being without honor or redemption."

He paused, and then continued. "It also means if they go off the net for extended periods of time, it might be...some time before the turian government will bother responding. No one will .. care."

Shepard was silent for a long moment, then spoke. "Alright... let me know what you find." Her voice was flat and yet sounded ever so slightly on edge.

Garrus clicked off, and glanced around. The room was very spartan. A desk and a chair were at one end, the desk a cheap metal folding type, a computer lying neatly on top. In front of the desk were two more chairs. One of the chairs was toppled onto its side. The far end of the room had a multi-function comms and information display, a rack with three rifles in it, and a door – leading to the CO's quarters.

Garrus moved to the computer. "Williams, check the CO's quarters. Jackson, see if you can get anything from the info-panel." He sat down at the desk gingerly, and a haptic image frame popped up – a slender turian female with a deliciously narrow waist, holding the hands of a pair of small turian boys, stared up at him. _Family man, huh? _

Tapping the computer to open it, he was disappointed as it failed to boot. "Damn, wiped." Checking the desk drawers, he found one full of paperwork – mostly grid maps of areas they'd searched – and another drawer full of assorted junk. Haptic pens, a claw dagger, condiment packets, a spare firing pin, notebooks filled with artistic patterns and scrawled notes on training, and at the back of the drawer, a slender plate of metal.

Garrus frowned. "He left his omnitool in his desk?" Frowning, he slotted it into the spare connector on his armor, and the command interface popped up. Rather than trying to identify his identity, the UI looked hacked, and it immediately popped into a video window.

The video was of a tired looking turian, with greenish mottling growing under his plates, and a desperate look in his eyes. His voice was ragged with pain and fear, harmonics those of a prey being stalked. "I haven't much time. The Will in my head is strong, but the drug in the medbay is frying all my nerves anyway. It can't control me."

The turian glanced around. "There's something here. Something alive, huge, in the Inusannon city. It's taken everything, everyone. The animals, the spirits-damned trees, and all my men. It infects and soon your thoughts are not your own."

The turian's mandible flickered agitatedly, and he held up a large caliber pistol. "It doesn't realize I'm free yet, but it will soon. If you see this, make sure you have full bio-hazard protection at all times… I think it infects you that way. It's crazy and it's… my head is full of thoughts that... not my own. There... there was a battle, I think... knives in the night. I remember... it made me wreck all the weapons that were... a threat to it."

The turian in the video's expression twisted, plates deforming under the stress as he clenched his jaw ever tighter. Several teeth shattered, and the pain snapped his head back, and he shook it. "Pain...doesn't like pain. Makes it stop. It knows, but it can't see me. Can't think how I think. If you... see this, you have to kill it. It has... our ships. It's making a bomb out of our drive cores... it plans to spread itself..."

With a sudden motion the turian screamed, clutching his head and the green mold on his face began to grow. "I won't let it KNOW!" The video blanked, the last thing visible was the turian's hand pulling the omni-tool's chip out of his armor. Garrus shuddered, and tapped his communicator again.

The response from Shepard was slower. "Yeah?"

Garrus' mouth felt dry. "I found something. A video. The commander was... being taken over by... by that thing, Shepard. He looked like those damned colonists on Feros. He said it was going to try and spread itself. Here." With a series of taps, he forwarded the video to Shepard's omni, turning to see what Williams and Jackson had found.

The specialist shrugged. "Multipanel is clean of anything... just patrol reports, usage logs, shit like that. They'd been here for about two months. About two weeks in, the patrol reports and logs just stop. Cold. There are still reports from the scientists for a day or two after that, then nothin'."

Williams came out of the CO's quarters. "There's a bullet hole in the wall in there. Part of the decking is discolored. Couple of spots of blue on the wall, soaked in. Turian blood. Someone went to the trouble of cleaning it up."

Garrus nodded. "Let's check the rest… let Shepard decide the next moves."

O-OSaBC-O

Shepard had no clue what to make of the data the teams were pulling in, but it looked pretty grim. Someone, or something, had carefully cleaned up any signs of struggle or anything out of the ordinary. They'd left the comms signal on, but no one was home. The medbay was wrecked, completely, but aside from it, the armory, and one of the minifactory labs, nothing else had been touched.

Garrus' disturbing find of the video had made Shepard's stomach queasy. The concept of being controlled and dominated by the creature must have been horrifying. The way the turian's mind had wandered, how desperately he'd fought against it, the sheer determination it must have taken to leave a warning...

Liara's findings, in their own way, were even worse.

She'd been reviewing the scientists' results. Unlike the military camp, nothing much was missing or disturbed. They'd been looking for weapons systems, but found clear evidence that someone had removed much of that a long time ago. Rubble and other hints were Liara's clues, and she'd determined that at some point, the Protheans had probably salvaged the site.

Analysis of the crashed ships showed a more frightening discovery. The ships had not been downed by mass accelerators at all, even though both races ships clearly used such weaponry. Instead, they'd been sheared apart and half melted. When Liara compared the damage to the ships with the reports of the damage to the Eden Prime towers and the Citadel ships at Feros, it was identical.

The weapon of the black ship that Saren had was identical to the weapon that had destroyed both the Inusannon and Tho'ian ships. Studies of the ground damage, using the Normandy's ground mapping radar, found deep runnels and ancient smears of long-solidified metal that were clearly misses by the weapon. Liara's voice had gone from excited and almost perkily cute to tinged with horror as she'd described her findings.

The team near the city's edge had found small animals, clearly infested, watching them closely, tracking them. Garrus had appropriated a few of the working turian weapons, and now Team One was heading back to the cliff base, to link up with Team Two.

Shepard wished she could rub her neck, but was glad nonetheless she'd gotten new Spectre armor instead of wearing her old N7 suit. She'd debated painting it, but Alliance black and Spectre black were both still black. She'd settled for putting her N7 sigil on the armor, and now she stood at the back of the Mako, reviewing the comms from the teams and thinking.

Wrex crouched nearby, his shotgun cradled in his arms. "Pin down where that thing is. Drop torpedoes on it. Problem solved."

Shepard smothered a grin inside her helmet. "Tempting, but the Council tends to frown on bombing garden planets. Even eezo-fucked nightmare garden planets. Besides, I figured you of all people would be up for a fight."

Wrex rose from his crouch, head rotating as he scanned the horizon. "Bah. Fighting plant zombies is gardening." He continued to look around. "Still, something's off."

Shepard watched the other Mako pull up, and nodded. "Yeah, I get the same feeling. Stay alert." She wandered over to where Liara was working, two Marines standing guard to either side, and glanced over the worktable Liara had salvaged from the scientist's work camp.

There were bits of stone or metal with inscribed writing, a stack of data pads, bits of corroded looking tech in various star shapes, and a long section of heavily damaged blue metal, scored with runnels of what looked like melted slag, pitted with corrosion. Liara was half bent over, examining the metal minutely with her omnitool, limned in the beams of light still coming from the sun as it began to slowly sink behind the horizon.

Shepard waited a moment, then spoke up. "Find anything else, T'Soni?" She managed to keep her eyes off the asari woman's figure and instead focused hard eyes on the table of junk spread before her.

Liara glanced up, the clear faceplate of her armor revealing a nervous but excited smile. "Y-yes, actually. The hull of the Inusannon ships were all studded with some kind of electrical pulse emitters. Mostly low voltage but high amperage." She gestured to another hull plate, this one a sickening, oily black. "The Tho'ian ships were... grown, for lack of a better word. This material is metallic, but crystalline and deposited in sheets, woven through with nanomachine channels. I think the creatures must have extended themselves throughout the entire vessel…" She trailed off, clearly lost in thought.

Shepard bit her lip. "That's...interesting, but not exactly what I was looking for. You said the hull damage was from the same gun that took out Eden Prime?"

Liara glanced in her direction, then shook her head. "Not exactly. That is the Eden Prime wreckage and the Citadel fleet hull wreckage are identical – the size, speed, and composition of the beam indicate they were destroyed by the same ship. These hull pieces all have the same kind of damage, but... the details are all different. There were a great many ships equipped with this weapon, fighting both the Inusannon and the Tho'ian."

She pointed to a pale green chunk of metal, delicate lines sunk into its surface. "And that piece is Prothean. They were here, probably salvaging weapons. But whatever they found was not enough to help them in their own fight, apparently. I have found bits of writing, and several Prothean data disks, but... it's all too much to translate and codify here on site."

The pieces lay on the table, inert, alien and cold, casting long shadows across the metal table. The age of the pieces hit Shepard for a moment, the sheer crazy span of time that was in play. _What will be left of humans in an eon, I wonder? _Shepard gingerly touched one of the pieces, pensive, then nodded. "Take samples of everything you can find, pack it up and get ready to move."

She turned away, but Liara caught her arm, albeit gently. "S-Shepard. There's one more thing you should see."

Liara moved over to a second table. "I found this in the scientist camp. They had run every test I could have thought of, and more, and the results were all inconclusive or contradictory." She rounded the table, picking up a metallic frame the size of a large book. The frame contained a sheet of clear crystal, and imbedded in the middle was a chunk of smooth, black curved metal, etched with subtle lines that didn't quite want to focus.

Shepard blinked. "The hell?"

Liara gave her a look. "The spectrograph analysis matches 99.4% to the scans taken of the black dreadnought that destroyed the Citadel Fleet. Except by the turian scientist's reckoning, this piece of debris is over a hundred thousand years old."

Shepard closed her eyes, the memories of a rain of sickening, black ships killing everything , falling from the skies, trumpeting calls of horror, echoing through her mind. "Reapers. One of their ships, or more than one of their ships did this. Not just some race that happened to use the same kind of weapon." She frowned, eyes taking in the blasted landscape, the hulks of ships. "How big... was the fleet that got taken down?"

Liara gave a shrug. "It is hard to say, Shepard. But based on what ships the turians had already cataloged, there must have been hundreds of dreadnaught scale vessels. Thousands of smaller ships. And nothing like the big black dreadnaught was found in the wreckage... just the occasional scrap of debris like this. It is possible … that they did not destroy a single one."

Shepard exhaled, willing herself to calm. "Great." She winced at the very slight tremor in her voice, hoping Liara hadn't heard it, but the bloom of fear in the clear blue eyes watching her was enough to show she had. Shepard took another long, slow exhalation, then clicked on her omni-tool comm link.

"Pressly, Liara's going to send you a data packet. Put together a data burst. Epsilon-level. Put an Exitialis-threat wrapper in the header. Address it to the Fleet Master, and to Fifth Fleet. Then get me a tight beam link with the comms buoy, stat." Liara shot Shepard a questioning look, and the commander explained. "Exitialis is the second-highest alert level the SA has. I'm sending them a data packet of what we found, and I want the SA to wake up and pay attention for once."

Shepard turned to Master Chief Cole, who was leaning against the Mako nearest her, checking the loads on his Revenant. "Master Chief, get the men in order. We're going in after that thing." He nodded, snapping to attention and began bellowing into his radio, and Shepard glanced back at Liara. "How long will it take to pack up everything?"

Liara glanced around, still holding the case with the chunk of Reaper metal in it. "I-I .. uh, about fifteen minutes, I suppose. W-what is –"

Shepard pointed at the piece in her hand. "That's hard evidence. All of this is. Until now, the idea that the Reapers could come back never made any sense. Whatever Saren was up to was crazy, sure, but not any real big threat."

Shepard stepped away, looking out over the literal graveyard of ships; alien angles sticking up like rotting bones jutting from some macabre cemetery. Hundreds of them, probably far more advanced than anything around today. The sky was beginning to darken with the coming of dusk, the clouds touched with lances of golden fire, the pale green of the sky becoming richer, darker, more vibrant.

Shepard closed her eyes, seeing the Prothean vision in her head. That endless, horrible rain of black leaves falling from a burning sky, and the screaming. "The situation has changed. If the Reapers offed these guys, and then offed the Protheans, then they could come back again. And we're not even close to ready to fight off ONE of their ships."

Liara nodded slowly, her mind working. "You want to... move the evidence so that it is safe before going after the Tho'ian? "

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. Get it packed up, you and Tali are headed back to the ship on one of the Makos."

Liara's eyes glanced over the artifacts, then back at Shepard. "I can fight –"

Shepard shook her head. "Fuck, Liara, I know that. But biotics didn't do much to the zombies last time. What you need are heavy weapons or explosives, or fire." She paused. "All of which the damned thing was quick to put out of commission for the turians, once it got the chance." She glanced back at Liara. "But you are going back because you are the one who understands this stuff. You're the one who saw the connection. You're the one who put it together. No arguments, Doctor."

Liara glanced at her, then at the alien city in the distance. "And you still plan to... investigate that thing? Shepard, it could have control of the entire turian force here." There was something almost pleading and worried in her voice, strained as it was. A note that made Shepard pause, however briefly.

No one had ever worried about her safety, before. Not Delacor, certainly. Not her squad – they thought she was … un-killable. Not her men – to them, she was a god. The media? Who gave a fuck? The Systems Alliance? Shit, half the time they were the ones trying to get her killed. Anderson might have cared, she supposed, but he'd never commanded her except for a handful of hours before being shuffled away himself. And in the end, understanding the depth and fervor of Anderson's faith and belief in her wasn't something she'd ever figured out. But Anderson's confidence in her was so great she didn't even think _he _worried about her safety.

Shepard couldn't place how it felt having someone – anyone – actually worried she'd get hurt. Amusing? Upsetting? Comforting? _Like I have time to think about this shit now. Get your goddamned head straight, Sara. _

Shepard glanced over her shoulder at Liara, before turning to fully face her. The Spectre cape flapped gently in the breeze, the light glinting from the silver edging. She placed one hand on the asari woman's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'll be fine."

Liara's expression was dubious. "You weren't _fine_ on Therum. Or Feros. You are not invincible!"

Shepard just grinned behind the mirror-plated helm. "I'm taking Wrex, and Garrus. And I think I'll bring Williams too, just for backup. I just plan to get close enough to figure out what we're dealing with. Trust me, if it gets too crazy, I'll be the first one to run out and have Pressly douse the area with missile fire." Shepard paused. "But we have to confirm what happened here. This can't have been the first expedition to this place, so why did the Thorian that's here make its move now?"

Shepard dropped her hand. "Now, get your stuff packed, and go." The levity fell from her voice, and it became hard and unyielding.

For a long moment Shepard wondered if Liara would actually try to argue. Liara's stance was tense, her hands gripping the metal frame of the fragment of the Reaper tightly. The blue eyes sought hers , and Liara's expression was hard to read behind the clear faceplate.

A moment later,the little asari shrugged and began carefully moving things from the table in front of her to a metal storage crate she'd lugged along. "We'll need more storage containers. The turian camp may have a few. And I will need a few marines to help me with the hull fragments." Her voice was calm, almost flat, but there was a note of emotion in it as well.

Shepard nodded. "Alright. We'll get on that." She turned away to organize the marines, and missed the worry in the young maiden's eyes as they followed her.


	64. Chapter 55: Eingana, Reassessment

_**A/N: **Sorry for the delays, but end of month is always a rough time, and I've been writing some other stuff. This chapter is about wrapped up – I'm laying groundwork for further divergence in the storyline later on. That being said, the next few chapters should go faster than this one. _

_I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, sent PM's or emails. And also I must thank Owelpost, who without I would have probably simply given up on this fic by now. _

_The Awesome Fic of the Day is_ **An Argument, A Separation**_by ChronicallyinFlaming. I very, very rarely read masskink stuff (mostly it just doesn't interest me) but this was a masterfully done piece of work about what happens when the bag of broken pieces simply won't add up to a whole. _

* * *

Shepard watched the bright arc of the second Mako as it ascended on its jump jets, eezo core lightening it as the SSTO booster kicked in. The Normandy swooped down, neatly plucking it from the air, before making a large circle around the city and settling into atmospheric hover mode.

The marines were dug in at the very edge of the city's . Both rocket launchers and flamethrowers were primed, and Master Chief Cole had been quick to distribute spare turian rifles to both squads. The turian rifles fired a heavier slug than human rifles did, were all equipped with scopes, and came with integral omni-bayonets.

Garrus had picked up one of the weapons himself, leaving his stock Avenger on a table. The turian was carefully examining the firing mechanism, tricky in full armor with a helmet. Wrex was crouching, nearby, shotgun in hand. Wrex's armor was a patch job – his original suit had been completely wrecked by the fight on Feros, and his backup suit was clearly not quite full combat armor. Williams had done what she could; adding some armor plating across the shoulders and hips, but the helmet was better suited to an environmental suit than battle armor.

Shepard glanced over her troops again and was about to speak when Pressly's voice crackled over the comm in her omni-tool. "Commander, we have a problem. We've tried twice now to link to the system comm buoy. It's not responding. We didn't think to drop a sensor buoy as we came into system, so we're kind of blind right now. I know you wanted the Normandy for close support..."

Shepard frowned. "You think something took the buoy out? We didn't pick up any ships on sensors."

Pressly's voice was tense. "Yes, but it's possible they hunkered down on a moon of that gas giant and cut most of their power. Heat would be lost in the backwash from the planetary systems tectonic and friction heat. If they waited for us to pass and then launched a few missiles at the buoy..."

Shepard grimaced. "Alright, head up to battle orbit, clear atmosphere. Go to stealth and full passive sensors. Let me know what you find out." Clicking off her omni-tool, she sighed, and turned to the marines. "Alright, we've covered the plan once already, but we just hit a little bump so we're going to make a few changes. XO Pressly just let me know the comm beacon isn't responding, it may have been taken out."

The stance of the marines shifted, slightly. Nervously. Shepard injected a note of iron into her voice. "That being said, our charge remains the same. We've gotten the evidence and research we need back to the Normandy. What's left is dealing with this thing."

She walked down the line of marines, eyes narrowed. "I won't lie to you. This Thorian creature is extremely dangerous. On Feros, it deployed what we can only call plant zombies, shock troops that would grapple you and vomit acid over you. In close quarters combat, in an unfamiliar space, that would be a negative for all of us."

She stopped. "So, only Wrex, Vakarian, and I will be going in. The plan is simple: investigate and determine the level of problem we have to deal with. Worst case, I'll blow the goddamned place to a pile of rubble and drop a couple of disruptor torps with a proximity setting on top of the ruins and let the Alliance deal with it."

She turned to face the marines. "Your orders are simple, by comparison. First, ensure nothing gets out of that city's borders. Consider that your kill line. Second, if we get rushed, cover fire. Maintain your lines and use heavy weapons only when your squad leads tell you. Each squad has a flame unit, cover him." Shepard's eyes flicked from marine to marine.

"This isn't ideal...but we're the only ones on the ground. For whatever reason, this monster hasn't rabbited yet, and we're not going to let it. Lieutenant Alenko is in charge. Williams and Cole will be the squad leads. Maintain full comms at all times, and if we get into trouble, provide covering fire."

Garrus made a clicking, almost hissing noise, sighting down his scope. "Commander, we have incoming."

Shepard whirled, the ODIN in her hands unfurling. "What?"

Garrus had gone almost rigid, his stance made even more alien by the shape of his legs and spine, looking for all the world like a terrier straining at the leash to chase ducks or something. "I have a single figure, walking down the ruins of the road coming out from the large tower there. Turian. One of the soldiers, he's wearing plain green armor with no markings. He has a weapon – just a pistol."

Shepard folded away her shotgun, drawing her sniper to get a better look. The turian she saw through the scope looked, for lack of a better word, horrible. His plates were buckled and warped, shoved out of the way by masses of green tendrils and moss. One eye was ruptured, a thick vine growing through it, covered in tiny black nodules. His gait was irregular, almost limping, and his posture was vaguely simian, shambling along, hunched over and shuffling his feet.

Williams muttered, gazing through her sniper scope. "Ranged, ma'am. Three hundred meters. Take him down?"

Shepard shook her head. "Not yet." She stood and strode forward, coming out from behind the cover of several heavy shipping crates her marines had moved to form a firing bulwark.

The thing didn't seem to notice, it was instead staggering along, as if looking for something. The creature walked up to a fairly intact piece of wreckage, running its corrupted hands along the seams, pulling and tugging. After a moment, it seemed to remember its pistol, and began firing at the hull of the ship. Several shots boomed out, plonking off harmlessly, and then one ricocheted. The thing gave a cry as its face exploded into a mess of blue and green fluids, and the pistol fell to the ground. It clutched its face, staggering back.

The hull of the ship opened, just a crack – just wide enough for the barrel of a shotgun to stick out and fire once. The corrupted turian flew back from the blast, leaking all manner of disgusting looking ichor, and the hull door slammed shut again.

Shepard exhaled. "There's a survivor." Even as she spoke though, she saw motion in the nearby foliage, the rustle of movement beyond the slow and sluggish reactions of the plant life to intruders. As she watched, two additional figures crept out of the undergrowth nearby, rising up in a loose, boneless sort of motion, and headed towards the hull section that held the survivor.

Garrus looked away. The two things weren't even real turians, but rather turian-shaped masses of dark green matter. Lighter green chitinous plates covered their chest and legs, and elongated claws jutted obscenely from hands and feet. The faces were under slung cavernous maws, empty eye sockets above them staring blindly. They reached the hull, banging on it and pulling at the hatch door, moaning occasionally. Three more erupted from the nearby shadows of a broken building, shambling along, arms limply outstretched.

Specialist Monroe shook his head, looking through binoculars. "The hell are they doing, ma'am? Trying to... break into that wreck with their bare hands? That's not gonna fucking work."

Shepard shook her head. "Trying to spook whoever is inside, probably." She tapped her omnitool, scanning. "Damn it, whatever they built these ships out of doesn't let heat through. I can't get a decent scan – no way of telling if it's one person or several. Garrus, is there a standard emergency response channel turians would use?"

Garrus nodded. "Yes, there is... one moment." He slung his sniper rifle, bringing up his own omnitool, tapping in a few keystrokes, and spoke clearly and slowly. "Any turian units, or university personnel – this is Detective Garrus Vakarian of C-Sec. Please respond."

The omni-tool flared and crackled with a poor signal transmission, a panicked turian voice nearly humming in terror. "Oh, Spirits, thank you. I-I am Praetor Emeritus Halxion Valun, assistant lead on the project. Detective, please tell me you're in full environmental gear!"

Garrus spoke calmingly. "Yes, I am. I'm here with a group of human Alliance marines, and a Spectre. Stay calm. We know about the plant-creature and its spores. Where are you? Are you in the –"

The voice sounded confused, cutting Garrus off. "Y-you know? How—? Never mind. At the edge of the large city near our campsite is a downed Inusannon transport. Its secure cargo area still has power, and when things went bad I was able to seal myself in here. I had a full pack of rations and water but I'm out now, and the things are hammering at the door. Can you help?"

Garrus glanced at Shepard, who spun her finger around in a whirling motion. "Change of plans, boys. Cole! First squad, clear that wreckage and set up a defense. Second squad, cover their advance and flame down nearby foliage. Garrus, Wrex, in the Mako, go."

She ran flat out, hurling herself through the back hatch of the Mako, and clambered past the rear section seating to get into the pilot area. Wrex clambered into the back, while Garrus manned the main guns.

Cole was leading his squad carefully, Revenant out, and directing ranging fire towards the creatures beating on the hull of the Inusannon ship ahead. They turned at the incoming fire, a moment before the main gun of the Mako flashed. The blast smashed the things to paste, sending gouts of dust and green gunk splashing out in a starburst on the scorched ground.

Shepard finished closing the distance, slewing the Mako around to form a cover barricade between the hull and the city, drawing a pained curse from Garrus as he was slung about in the gun cupola. Cole's squad was double timing, while Alenko and Williams led second squad at a fast walk, weapons trained in several directions, looking for trouble.

Shepard hopped out of the Mako, pulling her ODIN out, followed by Wrex. Garrus brought up the rear, his Talon pistol in hand, and all three walked to the hull section the creatures had been assaulting.

Up close, the marks of previous attempts – deep gouges in the metal, pits, acid burns and other, less identifiable marks – had barely marred the smooth, blue-black surface. Shepard trained her shotgun around, and a moment later Cole's squad, breathing hard inside their suits, rushed up.

Two marines, one with a flame unit and the other with a bandoleer of frag grenades, rushed past. The flame unit lit up, the omnitool like weapon spitting out an arc of superheated plasma in a semi-coherent stream so hot it made a faint howling noise from incinerating the oxygen in the air. The bruised looking vegetation caught fire immediately, falling into ashes after the cone of fire played over it but a second.

The grenadier flung several grenades deeper into the brush in an arc pattern; the savage muted thumps of their explosion accompanied by suddenly cleared circles of vegetation as the mass-accelerated shrapnel from the explosion lashed out. Several creeping turian-zombie things collapsed as they were revealed by the blasts, one surviving only to be taken out by a shot from Williams' sniper rifle.

Shepard turned to Garrus. "Contact him."

Garrus spoke into his omnitool. "Praetor Valun, we're right outside your door. It's safe for the moment."

The hull, seemingly smooth and unbroken, suddenly shifted, and an octagonal hatch opened in a spray of gasses. The hatch slid back with unnatural ease given its age, revealing a darkened empty room with heavy racks and shelving beyond.

Barely illuminated by his lit omnitool was a single turian in an environmental support suit, worn under a long black coat that broke sharply at the turian's spurs. The turian's faceplate was clear, and broken by some kind of respiration unit, leading to slender looking tanks strapped to the doctor's back. His hands nervously clutched an old Kalxar shotgun, the turian close quarters weapon of choice back in the First Contact War.

He gave a racking cough, and stepped forward, limping. "Oh, Spirits of Palaven be praised."

Shepard stepped forward, the last of the sunlight framing her in glowing sunbeams, glinting off the silver of her Spectre armor. "We need to know the situation... Praetor was it?"

The turian nodded. "Praetor Emeritus Valun, University of Lanthas, xenoarcheology." The turian's face was somewhat obscured by the respirator he wore, but his eyes were a clear blue color and his facial plates a pale cream, set off by the bright scarlet lines of his face paint. "I was supposed to be in charge of this excursion, but I had another Praetor along, who was more conversant in what little we know of the Inusannon."

Shepard glanced over her shoulder. "Set a defensive perimeter, keep alert." She turned back to him, her eyes taking in the rest of the small room . A pile of ration packs was stacked next to a larger pile of empty ones, and a curved cot was lodged into one corner. A shelf was covered in data pads, bits of alien devices, and several disassembled pistols. A trickle of water from the stream flowed through a crack in the hull, and pieces of what looked like a decontamination set were strewn about next to the trickle of water that washed through it.

The turian scientist followed her gaze, and she frowned. "You'd better start at the beginning, Praetor Valun."

"Yes, indeed. I'm sorry... this has just been... a lot to take in." Valun made a clear effort to calm his nerves and turned to the wall, pulling out one of the many data pads on the shelf. He flicked through it as he spoke, his voice crisp and almost laconically terse.

"We were assigned here after the disappearance of another excursion six months ago. Eingana should have been a treasure trove of alien technology, but the Prothean's appear to have been very... efficient... in taking away most of the tech we hoped to find here. The University had a contract and decree from the Hierarchy to come away with something, and the last expedition just...vanished."

He began to pace, waving the data pad for emphasis. "We arrived and set up camp, with no ill effects. We began cataloging what we found, and everyone except me went to regular clothing after the first few days. I have a lung and immune system condition that makes it impossible for me to operate without an environmental suit in anything but the most sterile of conditions...so I was not affected, I suppose, when the spores came."

Shepard nodded. "Was the Third Palaven stationed here from the beginning?"

The turian shook his head. "Spirits, no. Who would want to associate with those cowards? That honorless filth came later. I am getting to that." He exhaled, and looked up. "Like I said, I was not the only Praetor on site. Praetor Exactal Vorkus Palavanus was in charge."

Garrus rocked back on his heels. "One of the Old Family was _here?_ There should have been a full escort of –"

Valun nodded sourly. "Yes, yes, I know." He glanced at Shepard, whose expression was hidden behind the silvered faceplate but whose stance looked confused. "I am sorry, Spectre. Palavanus was the... old line of kings of Palaven, before the Overthrow thousands of years ago. Although they are no longer rulers, their linage is unbroken for more than eleven thousand years, and their prestige and wealth are legendary. Normally, an heir of the House is accompanied by several of the Valluxian Guard, but Vorkus was traveling alone."

The turian scientist shook his head. "His presence was an anomaly I should have acted on, but I was absorbed in research. Palavanus spent most of his time examining the corrupted flora and fauna, which we chalked up to the eezo exposure. Then about a week and a half into his explorations, he … vanished for almost eight hours. We looked everywhere for him and eventually he showed up out of the city here, looking disoriented."

Valun sat down on a section of fallen shelving, his spurs riding up high enough to rest his arms on. His eyes narrowed in remembered anger. "He immediately got on the comms with Palaven Command, after locking out of the comm tent. The next day, the Third arrived, led by a full General – one of the disgraced Valixen from that mess on Menae. They dug in and didn't tell us a thing. Palavanus told us to focus on our work and not to ask questions, and most of the team simply obeyed."

Shepard frowned behind her helmet. "Did you notice people acting strangely?"

Valun shrugged. "Several people started showing signs of greenish mold in between their plates. Palavanus was also our medical specialist and he diagnosed it as a harmless surface mold. People kept cleaning it off but it didn't seem to do anything."

He paused, fidgeting. "Until later."

Garrus leaned against the doorway, his posture somewhat stiff. "Did you contact the University about this? It seems highly irregular and against protocol."

Valun shook his head. "After the Third touched down, they took our comms down and everything had to be routed through their system. They were just standing around for a few days, then..."

The scientist sighed. "I was out here, doing salvage work. Since I can work in the areas contaminated by eezo I set up a little supply area here so I wouldn't have to truck all the way back into camp every night. I was, I admit, angry. My own expedition had been basically co-opted by the military for Spirits knows what. I remember both of our ships and the military's light cruiser touching down outside camp, and a transmission was sent that we had to assemble for a communication from Palaven Command."

Valun shrugged. "I admit that I was in the middle of some delicate disassembly of an Inusannon power star. I knew these ships were hard to punch a signal through, and honestly, I was not about to go all the way back to camp to be told the military was taking over here and to pack up and leave, which is what I expected. I just shut the door, pretended I heard nothing, and kept working."

Valun shuddered. "I kept my comms on – slipped an omni-lead outside the door, so I could hear with the hull shut – and that's how I found out what happened. The … spores in the air, I think, had already gotten to everyone. It just took everyone over at once, but it forgot that the science team had a suited volus as a bioengineering adept. Forgot or didn't think about it, one or the other, we tend to … overlook the volus too often."

Shepard nodded, thinking back to the conversation she'd had with Marshal Vidan, then shrugged. "So what happened?"

Valun looked up at her. "Everyone went silent, and Badal – the volus – got freaked out. He asked what was happening, and they attacked him. I couldn't see what was happening, but I could hear – they were not acting like turians. They were not even talking to one another, but I could hear gunfire. I have no idea how he got away, maybe they were uncoordinated at first. But he did, and was screaming for help on his omni-tool comms."

"I contacted him, told him to hole up in the command center if he could, or somewhere secure. He locked himself into the sensor tower instead, taking scans of everything and forwarding it to me. We'd never really tested the spores before now, and I did so hastily, while I watched the sensor tower's scans."

"The entire force was... taken over. They moved as one, working on the ships, altering the interiors, while they began trying to blast their way into the sensor tower. They got into the command center and started some kind of encrypted transmissions, as well. To whom, I have no idea – I copied the transmission to an OSD, but I am no encryption expert."

Shepard traded a glance with Garrus. "Go on, what happened next?"

The scientist shrugged. "Badal managed to scan most of the area and get detailed information on the changes they were undergoing – plant material growing out of them, and half the force of soldiers going into that ruined amphitheater in the ruins. When the plant creatures that looked like turians came out, he got scans of those too. It was… well, I took all the readings and saved them."

Shepard nodded. "So... all of the expedition but you and a single volus was taken over... what did you do?"

Valun sighed. "There was nothing I could do. I had a fair bit of supplies here, and the leak from the stream I could purify for water. But all I had was a single shotgun, and there were over a hundred soldiers out there. Badal stayed in the tower until they blew up the door and got to him – I have no idea what they did to him, but I lost telemetry at that point. I used what spare tools and gear I had here to try to build a remote drone, but I couldn't. I sat here for almost three days before my omni-tool lit up."

Valun gave Shepard a haunted look. "It was the commander of the Third. He was...corrupted, badly, but he seemed to be himself again. He said that the Turian government had gotten a call from Palavanus, something about what he claimed to be a live Tho'ian that wanted to make a deal with the Hierarchy. He said his unit was told to come here and obey the orders given by Palavanus, who... gave them to this Tho'ian. The creature dominates with the spores; they grow inside a body and take it over."

Shepard nodded. "That's why we're in full environmental armor. We ran into one of these things on a human colony world as well. It had... struck a deal with a human company."

Valun shuddered. "Well, the commander said it was reconfiguring the ships – two of them to carry it off world, and one as a bomb, to conceal it had ever been here, blow everything off the map. Everything was going to its plan when something happened – the Tho'ian went crazy, lost control. Most of the marines just went mad, but the commander figured out how to fight off its influence. He managed to get off a message to Command, and was planning on taking the thing out. He told me to stay hidden and wait for rescue."

Valun sighed. "I'm... not sure what happened after that. He never contacted me again, but after two days I heard heavy fighting. I risked going outside, and... well, I recorded what I saw, because it's too bizarre for me to make sense of."

The turian handed over the data pad he'd been clutching, and Shepard took it. It was loaded up with a video file, which she triggered, and the pad cleared its surface, displaying a shaky view of the ruins.

In the distance, a cylindrical ship, half comprised of arches of gray or black metal, half comprised of what looked like rock, hung in the sky. A few turian fighters or gunships flew past, but a beam of golden light seared through each one, blasting them to little more than fragments.

Hulking black creatures with tear-drop shaped heads, four glowing eyes, and insectile wings descended, firing weapons that were more of the same beams of golden energy. Turians they hit were disintegrated, collapsing to piles of smoking char and ash. Swarms of what looked like fist sized bugs choked the air, obscuring the battle.

A large group of the winged, insect-looking aliens was heading on foot into the city, cutting down anything in their path. The video ended suddenly, and Shepard looked up. "What the hell was that?"

Wrex, who'd been standing slightly outside the door but looking inwards, grunted with a tone that almost sounded like worry. "Those are Collectors, Shepard. Weird aliens who legend says live beyond the Omega-4 Relay. They usually only show up to do deals... deals involving living beings in exchange for technology. Never heard of them hitting anything themselves."

Shepard nodded, turned back to the scientist. "Is it possible the Hierarchy was dealing with these … Collectors? That your command sold its location or something?"

The scientist shrugged. "I doubt the Hierarchy would bestir itself to save the Third, but I have problems believing they'd just let a Palavanus die like that, and I saw him die. All I know is they stormed into the place then left a day later. They'd cleaned up all the battle wreckage, the bodies... then the plant creatures came back out, in ones and twos. I don't know what they were looking for, but this morning they all fell back to the city ruins. Then I suppose you showed up."

Shepard frowned. "More questions than answers at this point." She tapped her comm link. "Pressly, status of communications."

The XO's voice sounded frustrated over the link. "Commander, as soon as we cleared the atmosphere, we sent a full power pulse to the comm link and got a response. I'm not sure why it wasn't responding before, though. We have a ping-back packet from Alliance command if you want to download it."

Shepard glanced around, and then stepped outside the hull of the wreck Valun had sheltered in. "Get the Praetor into the Mako, and then form into fire-team overlap formation, fervent arrow tactical dispersion." She watched as the marines reassembled their formation, while Wrex and Garrus stood to the side. "You two follow me... after I take this message."

She triggered the link, cutting audio to her helmet only, and waited. A moment later, the grainy image of Fleet Master Dragunov appeared on the small projection screen of her omni-tool. "Commander Shepard, we received your initial report. Can you confirm your findings?"

Shepard's voice came out bitter. "Confirm hell. I've found a survivor from the turian expedition. He says the Turians knew about this thing, sent their throwaway version of the Penal Legions here to recover it, but that it all went to shit. Next thing he knows, Collectors arrive on site and start killing everyone."

The admiral's eyes narrow. "Collectors, Shepard? Are you absolutely sure?"

Shepard tapped keys on her omni. "Transmitting the video he sent us now, as well as dumps of sensor logs."

The admiral was silent for several minutes, no doubt watching the low-quality video, and then his mouth hardened into a grim slash. "There are still active thralls in the area, yes?"

Shepard nodded. "They seem pretty out of it. The thralls on Feros were tactically sound, using combined arms tactics with that acid vomit. These are just ...wandering around, trying to beat their way through a starship hull. I've got my squads stacked up to go inside where we think the Thorian is."

Dragunov nodded. "We aren't in a good position to take advantage of the Thorian, and we don't want anyone else to have access to it. You disagreed with the Systems Alliance's position on the Thorian on Feros, so here is one order you will enjoy carrying out – destroy that thing. No loose ends."

Shepard's eyes flicked to the scientist in her Mako, and she lowered her voice. "There's the turian scientist. He never saw the Thorian, but he saw them get possessed..." She gave the image in the video a defiant look. "I'm not going to play assassin for you, sir. Not for this."

Dragunov shrugged. "As long as he can't figure out just how the thing can be used, he's harmless. I wasn't going to suggest you kill him."

Shepard nodded, her shoulders loosening. "In that case, sir, I have a plant to kill, assuming the Collectors didn't do that already. What if they did kill it?"

Dragunov's eyes narrowed. "Burn it. I don't want any bright bio science labs trying to grow another one. Once you are sure it's dead, transmit your report as usual to the Council. Then go ahead and follow up on what Kahoku asked you to handle...but discreetly. I personally think the man's paranoid, and you'll find his marines with some downed communications gear, but he's raised too much fuss for us to just ignore it." Dragunov paused, then his eyes flicked up to meet Shepard's again.

"The rest of the information you sent will be reviewed… later. The fact that it looks like these 'Reapers' may have obliterated the Inusannon as well as the Protheans looks bad, but I don't think it's going to be easy convincing anyone they're still out there. Until then, don't bring this up to anyone, at least until we decide how to pitch it to the Council."

Shepard opened her mouth to protest, then thought about it. "The Council wouldn't listen, even after—"

Dragunov's cold features twisted into a cynical smile. "Commander, I'm almost positive that the Council is not going to want to hear about a race of aliens that killed two ancient, galaxy spanning empires. They focus on stability and the status quo, and anything like that makes them panic. Their botched handling of the Rachni led to the Krogan Rebellions, their inactivity with the geth ended up with quarians losing their own home world, and I shouldn't have to remind you about the First Contact War. If this is a real threat, then we need to push it in a manner where they just won't bury it – and their heads – in the sand."

Shepard nodded. "Understood sir. I'll contact you again once I've dealt with the Thorian. Shepard out." She exhaled, and cut her external audio back on. "Alright, marines... the plan changes yet again. Gather round and let's plan this out."


	65. Chapter 56: Eingana, Sacrifice

_**A/N:** I've had to work on this chapter a bit, since I wasn't happy with it on the first , second, or third re-write. I'm trying to get back to a 'twice a week' schedule, but I'm overworked, and so is Owelpost, so..._

_Also , SherryE: Shepard doesn't get hurt this time. :p_

_I am about to put up some other stuff – a series of documents about alien races in my AU similar to my Systems Alliance Documentation piece I wrote. And if you get tired of waiting for me to update, the Recommendation of the Week is **Mass Effect: Pieces** by chemiclord. I'm not even going to spoil this one by describing it. It blows me away with it's depth and detail. It's very much post-ME3 and is a wonderful mix of OC's and cameos. You won't regret reading it. _

* * *

Liara nervously ran her tests on the oxygenation and carbon scoring of the Inusannon hull segment in the lab, while listening to the comms feed from Eingana. Her hands were not shaking, and she was proud of that, because everything had hit her all at once. The ugly realization of the reason the planet below was covered in the wrecks of an entire fleet was bad enough. The horror that the Reaper ship may have once been part of a Reaper fleet, and what such a fleet would do to galactic society, was another hard fact to face.

But above all else shaking Liara's nerve was the realization that Shepard had not sent Liara back to the ship out of worries about the data.

That moment of clarity – the instant Shepard's voice had wavered when she'd ordered Liara back to the ship. Her shoulders had hunched in on themselves. The angle of her stance had fallen into something almost hesitant. Liara was not good at reading body language, especially alien body language in form-fitting armor, but she knew, just then, that Shepard was more than conflicted.

She'd heard the flirty comments Shepard had made, of course. But she'd also heard Shepard make such around Garrus, and even Wrex once. She just assumed it was something the commander did. The conversation in the hospital had sent a number of thoughts running through her mind, and sensations through her body, but Shepard hadn't referenced it since, and she _had _been recovering from surgery. Drinking on the Citadel had loosened the human commander up, but the discussion Shepard had with Kaidan once they got back to the ship had apparently soured her mood, as she saw Shepard just after and the commander barely spoke a word to her or anyone else.

But Liara had recognized something in the way Shepard acted when she'd sent her back to the Normandy. Shepard wasn't scared of the Thorian, or of dying. Liara honestly didn't think, based on the fragmented memories she'd retained from the meld, that Shepard even understood what fear _was_ on some level, at least personal fear. Shepard had been horribly injured probably dozens of times in her career, her insane bravery was known to all.

But there had been a note of fear in Shepard's voice when she told her to go back to the ship. The voice had come out hard, cold, and with nothing but command in it, but Liara knew what she heard.

Shepard wasn't scared for her own safety. She was scared for Liara.

_Shepard hasn't shown the slightest interest in you beyond... _Liara broke off the thought. Reading her books and papers, questions about the asari home world and family, even the way she was willing to risk opening herself up again with a second meld to process the Cipher – Shepard treated her far more openly than any of the rest of the crew, alien or human. And yet, from her conversation with Shields, Shepard was very bad at picking up interest.

Liara finally put the testing wand down, mind racing. "Get a grip on yourself. You're a professional, on a dangerous mission aboard an alien warship. You do not have time for this, and neither does she."

Images of a tiny, broken figure, huge eyes and a mop of messy black hair, being abused, being _tortured, _flashed across her mind. Without even thinking about it Liara brought her fist down in a biotically charged slam, cracking it into the metal bulkhead in a flash of burning anger. She recoiled from the pain, her field dying. Her gaze settled on the sizable dent in the bulkhead as she sucked blood from her knuckles absently.

_You are not stable. And until you work out what you are feeling, you will be a liability to her. What if you panic when she needs you? What if you cannot bring yourself to leave her side and you distract her? _

She started, almost guiltily, as the science bay doors whisked open, and XO Pressly entered. "Sorry to interrupt your research, Doctor, but I would like a moment of your time, if you can spare it." Despite his polite phrasing, his voice was rather hard, and his wide shoulders were set almost sternly. Liara meekly nodded and followed him out.

He led her past the Medbay, his omni-tool glowing as he kept in contact with Shepard's group on the ground. They were organizing to go into the ruins, and the occasional, seemingly mindless thrall that wandered about was not really a problem. So far, there had not been any problems, and the line was filled with banter between Shepard, Williams, and Garrus, as they competed over sniping thralls at outrageous ranges.

Pressly entered the comms room, pausing to address the sentry. "Until we're done no one comes in."

The ensign nodded, and stood at parade rest in front of the doors, which shut as Pressly entered the room fully. Liara glanced around, and took a seat nervously, looking up with wide eyes. "You... said you needed to speak with me, Commander Pressly?"

Pressly folded his arms. "Yes, I do. No better time than now, since the CO is down there. I'll be the first one to admit, Doctor, you're definitely not what I expected. I tend to think of scientists as soft, but your biotics and combat skills are on par with some of humanity's best. Your scientific knowledge is also clearly top notch. Your research has given us the only leads we've got and, frankly, your motivation for being here is the only one I respect out of all the aliens who have joined us."

Liara smiled, despite herself. She'd shared her nervousness at being useless with others, but clearly Shepard wasn't lying when she pointed out Liara was doing a good job. The idea of a person like Pressly giving out empty praise was not something she could see happening. "I am happy to be of some use to the mission, but I am just doing what I… f-feel I have to do… to deal with my mother's treason."

Pressly gave her an understanding glance. "Like I said, ma'am, it's a good motivation. But my job as XO is to assess and control the crew, not merely tell them they're doing a good job. That goes from the lowest recruit marine, all the way up to the CO herself. That's what this is about."

Pressly exhaled. "I need to know if I can trust you, Doctor. I have a situation on my hands, and I don't know how to proceed yet. What I say has to remain between me and you. Can you do that?"

Liara tilted her head. "That... depends on what you need me to do, or to tell me, Commander. It would be unwise to simply agree without knowing."

Pressly frowned, but nodded. "It's about Commander Shepard. And … issues she's having."

Liara glanced at the floor, then nodded slowly. "I... I will not repeat anything you tell me, as long as it will not hurt her."

Pressly snorted, but sat down. "No chance of that. I don't know how much she told you, but the Commander was visited by the Alliance Admiralty when we came into port. From what I gather it was a pretty ugly meeting. Shepard was... upset. Agitated. Depressed, even. It wasn't until you and she came back toasted on the last night out that she seemed to calm down."

Liara frowned. "Um, toasted? Is that not something done to bread?"

Pressly couldn't stop the smile that broke across his features, but his voice was gentle, not mocking. "Slang reference to being drunk, Doctor."

Liara nodded. "Ah. I was... upset myself at the time, due to family issues, and I admit I did not pay enough attention to her mental state. But I am still confused. What is the problem?"

Pressly sighed. "The problem is twofold. The Admiralty sent me a message, stating that if Shepard's… activities in the hunt for Saren got out of hand, or if her mental state deteriorated to a point where she was a threat to the Systems Alliance, I was to assume command, drop all Citadel Observers off at the Citadel, and return the Normandy to Arcturus station. These orders are tied to me, or Doctor Chakwas, declaring Shepard mentally unfit. By itself, while irritating, it's not too worrying. But it upsets me, because it means my government doesn't trust her, and she deserves better."

Pressly stood, flexing his broad shoulders, his hands rubbing together almost nervously. "The other half problem is... the one I need your help with. On board a ship, people pick up queues and hints pretty quick. Rumors get started and can get ugly. I already know that several people decided to commit some improper... fraternization while in port. Shepard let it slide, the crew blowing off steam, all that. That kind of thing I can deal with myself."

Liara swallowed, wondering where Pressly was going with this.

The XO turned away. "Other rumors are harder to stop. I know you don't mingle with the crew much, but... Shepard has nightmares. More than once she's woken up screaming loud enough to wake crew in the sleeper pods, or be heard up on the CIC. It's... unnerving, and worrisome. The ugly truth, Doctor, is that Shepard is under a lot of stress. If the crew feels she's cracking under the pressure, they're going to crack, too. Rumors have already started about the nightmares, and frankly, I think someone may have told Command about them."

Liara nodded, somewhat confused. "Why are you telling me this, Commander?"

Pressly waved a hand in her general direction. "Because I don't trust most of the other aliens on board, and you're the person who seems closest to her. The turian? Nice enough, I suppose, but memories of the First Contact War die hard, and this mess –" he paused to gesture angrily at his omni-tool "— shows they aren't any more admirable than we are."

Pressly ticked fingers off. "She doesn't open up to the crew much, and Master Chief Cole says she probably won't. She's thick as thieves with that Wrex, but I'd sooner trust a vorcha with a flamethrower than ask him for advice. He's a mercenary, nothing more. The quarian is … doing good work, but she and Shepard barely speak."

Pressly glanced over his shoulder. "I know you've, ah, had to do some mind things with her. I don't understand what it entails, but I've seen your little display on Therum, and the armor cams show how hard you fought your own mother on Feros. Cole says you were more worried about Shepard's health than the fact that the thing you did with Shiala could have killed you. _You_, I feel I can trust with this."

Pressly exhaled. "She won't talk to us, or admit there is a problem. That's fine; chain of command rarely pushes its problems downstairs. But we can't afford her going to pieces on us mid-mission. Normally, I'd refer this issue to the ship's medical officer… but we've already conferred on this, and Shepard would react badly if we pushed it."

Liara carefully licked her lips, adjusting her position in her seat nervously. "She... has spoken to me a great deal, I suppose. And I spent some time speaking with Ms. Shields, before she departed. I think the Commander is stronger than most people realize."

Pressly grimaced, the strong planes of his face twisting. "Humans can only take so much, Doctor, and she's already taken a lot."

Liara glanced away, gritting her teeth. "I know. When... I joined with her to help her process the images from the beacon on Eden Prime... I... saw some of it. J-just a few flashes, but still… "

Pressly nodded. "I can't go to the brass to make her get help. They'll relieve her of command. She won't listen to me or Chakwas, and if we bring up what they threaten to do to her, it might send her over the edge. I can't even just talk to her about it, because she clams up. And if I do nothing … I may have to carry out the orders the Admirality gave me, as unfair as they are. I don't want that."

His steely gaze settled on her with almost tangible weight. "I need you to find out what's wrong with her. See if you can help her."

Liara stared at her hands in her lap, and realized she was trembling. "I... I ah, think I am... a-attracted to her. I worry that she will see an attempt at help as... um..."

Pressly snorted again, and Liara looked up in confusion. "Good lord, Doctor, half the crew has a crush on her. Parker and Jameson have to wipe the drool from their mouths. You'd have to be _dead_ not to be attracted to her. But, unlike some members of this boat, you're professional enough not to let that become an issue." Pressly sniffed, almost disparagingly, and turned back to face her. "Having a crush on a good looking woman is not a crime, Doctor. And frankly, based on what I've seen, I don't think she would even pick up on it like that. I still need your help. She's... in serious trouble."

Liara frowned, pushing aside her own worries at the almost despairing tone in Pressly's voice. "How bad are these nightmares?"

Pressly shrugged. "Aside from her not getting more than a couple of hours of sleep in the past few days? Bad. The VI monitors life signs of crew members at all times, and the results ping to the doctor if they go out of range. Shepard's blood pressure is up 40%, her oxygen levels are down. Her reaction times are starting to go. Worse, she's begun drinking heavily, every night. Before the Beacon hit her, she was like ice, now she's... unstable."

Liara nodded. "It may be related to that. I saw the Beacon images...they are … Goddess, horrible! Watching an entire civilization die, to be melted down and used, or burned, or..." She shuddered and folded her arms around herself. "But I do not know what I can do to help her with that. I am not a, what do you call it, psychologist? "

Pressly shrugged. "You're the only thing we've got, unless you want me to wait until she has a psychotic break." The big human folded his arms, waiting, and Liara sighed.

O-OSaBC-O

"800 yards. Headshot." Garrus' sniper rifle boomed and another thrall slammed to the ground, tumbling back in a slouched mass as bits of its head pattered down around it. The round continued through to blast a second plant-zombie, sending it to the ground with a screech, and it did not rise. "Ready to give up, ladies? That's my second two-for-the-price-of-one."

Williams snorted, using her sniper rifle to track across the broken landscape of the city ruins. "And so modest, too." The sweep of her sniper rifle stopped, and the bark of its firing was accompanied by another shriek as a thrall, half-hidden in the vegetation, was flung back with its head missing. "Hey, Skipper. They weren't acting like those on Feros... what's up?"

Shepard had moved her force directly to the ruined city, after hearing the story of what had happened from Valun. So far the penetration into the ruins had been broken up only by the occasional randomly wandering thrall, none of which even seemed aware of their presence. Shepard had told Williams and Garrus to drop every single one they saw, to be safe, but the large tower Valun had pointed out was barely fifty feet ahead, and there was still no resistance. "I don't know, Chief. Be ready for anything."

She came to a stop, and nodded to Kaidan, who boomed out orders. "Company halt! First squad, fall out into fire teams. Second squad, form up on the Mako in shining shield formation." The lieutenant racked the release on his Avenger rifle and clambered atop the back of the Mako that had slowly followed them on their approach to the city.

Wrex was in a half crouch, shotgun readied, eyes flicking left and right in rapid arcs designed to pick out movement. Garrus collapsed the huge sniper rifle, drawing out the Phaeston he picked up from the turian camp, and he rolled his shoulders a bit as he also glanced around. Master Chief Cole adjusted the flame unit on his arm, then hoisted his Revenant in his cybernetic hand, the 20 kilo weight of the weapon no strain to the servos in his enhanced limb.

The tower reared above them, at least seven or eight stories high, suddenly ending in a sheared off, melted mass. The entrance to the building was a hexagon, its sides occluded with melted stone and metal. A large mass of sticky green gunk was spattered liberally over the ground leading into the building itself. The doors were long gone, the archway beyond the hexagon sagging with age. Shepard swallowed. "Fire team one and two, in. One left, two right. Secure the entryway and click your radio for clearance. One click is all clear, two is hostiles sighted. If you are engaged, pull out."

Williams nodded, and she with five other soldiers stormed the entryway. It grated on Shepard to send her men in first, but she knew that getting herself killed if this was a hostile situation would probably cause even more deaths. She grit her teeth as her hands tightened around her ODIN, hissing with relief when the radio clicked once. Her relief faded as the radio clicked a second time.

"Hostiles." Her voice was cold, with none of her inner nervousness showing. "Wrex, Garrus, on me. Kaidan, take fire team 3. Cole, fire team 4. Jackson, Illiana, stay outside with the doctor and kill anything that comes out besides us. Move!"

Marines stormed the building, Shepard and the aliens following. The floor was tacky with green slime and irregular with broken tiles of some pale white slate. Passing through the doorway, she entered a short, heavily curved tunnel. The ceiling was a gossamer-like material, thousands of strands of glowing filaments crossing in elaborate patterns, tattered now, but still illuminating the tunnel. Marine boots pounded, and the tunnel ended in another hexagonal portal, opening up into a huge lobby.

The lobby must have been a good hundred feet across, the building basically a hollow tube with rooms on the outside. A large central pillar rose from the center of the lobby, some kind of elevator cars lying in a heaped pile of rubble at its bottom. Wrapped around the pillar was a mass of vegetation and slimy, flesh-like nodules, supported by hundreds of wiry, pulsing ropes of flesh. A heavy, bulbous sack of green-tinted flesh hung pendulously from the pillar, long arches of bone-like substance supporting its vast weight. From this trailed hundreds of thin, long tentacles, and a heavy, slime-dripping tube that ended about five feet from the ground.

If the Feros Thorian had been disgusting, this was beyond revolting. Not just because of its much larger size and mass, but because it had been severely wounded and was seeping masses of thick, vicious slime and chunks of rotting vegetation were slowly seeping from its many nodules. Heavy lines of black charring crisscrossed its bulk, and entire segments of the creature were burned and blackened, dripping blackish fluids that congealed into disgusting masses on the floor. At least seventy turians lay scattered about on the floor as well, most dismembered or burned, charred heaps. At the base of the Thorian was a pile of wrecked computer equipment and comms gear, mostly burned, and propped against it was an infested turian.

The turian was taller than Garrus, and bigger through the shoulders, wearing expensive looking black and gold armor with many angular segments that glinted in the dim light. The turian's face was charred, but even through that the hard planes and high brow could be made out. The turian's right hand clutched a forward curved blade like a claw, the metal shattered a foot from the grip. A pool of golden fluids had stained the floor, bits and pieces of brownish flesh flung about, and long, flung lines of gore showing he'd not died alone.

Shepard pulled her fist up in a stop-motion movement. The chamber was not empty of life. Several floors were visible, and these were packed with an array of animals and turian plant-zombies, shuffling and shambling. There were possibly over a thousand of them, and while most of them seemed mindless, a few turned their head in the direction of the marines, empty eye sockets dark and mouths opening to hiss.

The huge plantlike mass shivered suddenly, and one of the long tentacles snaked down to the ground, slamming itself into the burned corpse at its base. The body shuddered, once, twice, a third time, and then from the tube of flesh, a sack of greenish material erupted, falling to splatter on the floor, spilling its contents.

The figure that rose from the gory wreck of the nodule was turian in shape, but green. Naked, it stood over seven and a half feet tall, almost topping Wrex. Massive shoulders shuddered as the thing flexed its mandibles, and took a wobbly step forward on thick, plated legs that were ropy with hard muscles. Its eyes were bright, searing green, and fixed first on Garrus, then the marines, before fixing on Shepard.

"Shepard, meat leader. I recognize you. The memories of those who have been sanctified whisper to me. A figure of war, of rage and reckless hate."

Shepard waved her hand back, and stepped forward a few steps, eying the masses of thralls that waited patiently. "Let me guess – you're a Tho'ian. "

The turian copy bowed, a gesture different than a human bow, the back bending strangely, the eyes never leaving from staring at her, the arms splayed behind, and then straightened. "Somewhat. Events have taken a curious turn. The Tho'ian took control of us, absorbed us. Or I absorbed them. Then the slave creatures came, and nearly slew us. But I was linked to myself. And now who I am is as blurred as the nights of Fire on Palaven itself."

Shepard blinked, confused.

The turian creature tilted its head. "I am indeed the Tho'ian...but it had a mental shock from the … scream of another of its kind dying a final death, and it was disoriented when the slaves came. Its mind is shattered, and it has co-opted part of my own mind. Or what was my own mind. Or his own mind. Part of me is Prince Ascendant and Praetor Exactal Vorkus Palavanus. Part of me is Lost-Translations-of-Quantum-Foam, a Tho'ian diplomat and elder who was planted here to oversee Tho'ian – Inusannon slave race relations."

Garrus shook his head in dismay. "This... is not good."

Shepard motioned the turian to silence. "So you puppetted Palavanus and lured the Third here, to start making more thralls, then the Collectors half-killed you. And you're not doing so hot. Seems to me the best thing to do is put you out of your misery."

The turian facsimile smiled a turian smile, the mandibles dropping, the needle-like teeth gleaming wetly with greenish tinted slime. "Such an impatient, brutish thing you are. I am not so easily dispatched… and you would be remiss not to hear me out, creature of meat. I offer you things in your hunt for the one you call Saren."

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"

The copy of Palavanus spread its hands. "I awoke to turmoil, with the landing of the first scouting party here. I saw them and consumed them, rebuilding my intellect from the long sleep. The more complete information I tore from the minds of these turian creatures was... fragmented. But the image of a Reaper battleship was in their minds eye, which meant it was time to find a new place to sleep and while away the years."

"In there memories I saw a turian, a fallen hero, now following in the path of those who do not understand the forces they are dealing with. There are doors best left shut, and dark places that should not be breached. Your Saren is one of those who is fool enough to think he is deciding his path, and is instead falling to the wills of those greater than he."

It turned back to face her. "And in their memories, I saw you. Human Spectre, turian detective, krogan mercenary. All set upon his path. I watched you fumble through the camp above for answers. I laughed at your pitiful preparations to do battle and kill me. You are as prey, come to challenge the alpha predator in its own den. If the fires of the slave-takers could not end me, you think mere plasma fire will?"

Shepard gritted her teeth. "There's a good way to find out."

The mockery of Palavanus held up a taloned hand. "Or you could listen, meat creature. Fighting me will simply get you killed, and you are no use to me dead. I wish to... deal."

Shepard shook her head. "I have my orders. And I intend to carry them out. You've murdered these turians, possessed their bodies and defiled their very sense of self. And now you want to deal?"

Palavanus's copy laughed. "I am in some ways a turian now. I do not seek to escape whatever trivial sense of justice you short-lived insects have; I am unlikely to survive much longer. Already my thralls are beyond my ability to control when they venture outside a very short range. Or its ability. Things are no longer clear ."

The Tho'ian itself quivered, a nodule rupturing and spilling a slurry of broken organs and burnt meat onto the floor. Palavanus' copy paid it no mind. "I will tell you, or rather what I am will remember, what it is you face, what you fight. Death is racing towards you all, meat creatures."

Shepard adjusted the slide on her ODIN shotgun. "And in return?"

The Tho'ian shuddered, and Palavanus gave a sigh. "My people... rather, the Tho'ian... are difficult to kill. Almost impossible, really. But when one's life is threatened, it can encapsulate its needed inner self into a spore casing. Planted on a new world, it will again grow to survive. It will take centuries, but the Tho'ian would survive to fight another day."

Wrex glanced at Shepard, but said nothing. Garrus made a clicking sound, one of fury, and Williams's grip on her shotgun tightened.

Shepard, for her part, was thinking. _This is the kind of decision I should kick upstairs. _She clenched her jaw, then glanced at the ranks of the plant zombie creatures that crowded the upper floors. A fight here would be very, very ugly, and the chances of everyone making it out alive were low.

"Your own deal with the Tho'ian didn't end very well for you, did it, Palavanus? Why should I make the same mistake?" Shepard gestured with her shotgun to the charred figure on the floor, and the copy of Palavanus shrugged.

Shepard shook her head, and took two steps back. "I have orders that, for once, I agree with. You've murdered all of these turians. Now you offer knowledge to help me. The Systems Alliance made a deal like that with one of your kind, and all it did was bite us in the ass. No deals, plant."

The copy of Palavanus nodded slowly, and gave another turian smile. "The Tho'ian felt you would be reasonable... I knew better, Butcher of Torfan." The thing swelled in size, the false carapace splitting open to reveal lashing, fanged tentacles. "We will simply take what we need from your twitching corpses!"

Shepard fell back two more steps, leveling her shotgun. "Open fire!"

Howling in rage, swarms of thralls leapt from the balconies above, running forward in a loping, feral manner, their ranks stiffened by huge beasts shot through with vines and infestation. The copy of Palavanus rolled to one side, next to the corpse, and pulled up holding a Phaeston rifle, which he leveled and fired.

Corporal Smith jerked back, half his head gone as the rounds tore through him. Shepard fired twice, both shots crashing into the huge thrall, but Palavanus merely staggered back, and straightened again, firing.

Garrus was moving, firing from the hip. He dropped a pair of lunging, snapping beasts with his rifle, then emptied a long burst into a group of running turian-zombies, sending three crashing to the ground with blown apart heads. Behind him, Wrex was firing his shotgun, the incendiary rounds blazing through the air to slam into a pack of howling thralls. Two went down instantly, missing legs and arms, a third stumbled forward, on fire, only to catch a biotic throw and go sailing into the distance. Wrex gave a booming laugh, stepping forward and backhanding another thrall hard enough to snap it's hunched form in half.

Marines stumbled back, firing on full auto, hosing down the shambling ranks with shots. Cole and Alenko sprayed fire from the flame units, sending entire swaths of the plant creatures stumbling back. Thick black smoke from burning thralls choked the air, making it difficult to see.

Shepard pulled three grenades from her belt and flung them all in the direction of the Tho'ian. As she did so, a thrall pounced on her, sending her sliding to the ground, her ODIN shotgun flying out of her hands. The thrall was turian, misshapen and almost melted looking, its mouth a nightmare pit of elongated, jagged fangs, snapping at her face as acidic drool sizzled against the surface of her Spectre armor. She focused her will and sent a biotic shockwave lashing out, hurling the thing away. It landed heavily against a pillar and broke in half, spilling a wash of malformed lumps of flesh amid black-green fluids onto the floor.

Alenko was blazing blue, hurling throws to break up charging thrall groups, flinging grenades, and spraying flames in wide arcs, dropping dozens of the charging creatures with every pass. More and more thralls seemed to focus on him, but they couldn't breach his barriers, shockwaves and the roaring plasma fires from the flame unit.

Williams was firing in wide, scything bursts, concentrating on breaking the enemy charge and covering wounded marines. She sprayed a stream of slugs into the closest thrall, sending it stumbling away to trip up two others, and turned, screaming orders to the squad to find cover. Before they could even react, another marine died, claws ripping through his suit and acid vomit pouring down his shattered faceplate. Three more marines were separated from the battle line, and even as Shepard got to her feet, one of them was hit from behind by a leaping thrall. The woman's legs buckled as she screamed, her arms flailing, and then the thrall tore her head straight off her shoulders, pausing only to vomit acid on the two marines staring at her corpse in horror.

Shepard rolled to the side, and with a lunge snatched up her ODIN, firing several times. The first two shots staggered the thrall, the final shot blew its leg off, sending it spinning to crash heavily into the ground. Shepard rushed forward, grabbing the arm of one of the marines and pushing him towards the exit. "Fall back with cover fire! Cole! Suppressive fire!"

The Master Chief nodded, tossing his flame unit to another Marine, and then spraying full auto with the Revenant. The sheer power of the slugs coming from its smoking barrel meant even a graze sent thralls stumbling back, direct hits usually blowing limbs off. Marines began moving back, firing, but several were limping from wounds. Alenko sprayed more fire, and then lashed out with biotics, bringing down part of a balcony. It crashed upon a large group of infested animals, smashing them to paste.

Williams was tackled to the ground by a thrall, losing her rifle. It raised it's hand to slash at her mask, but Alenko, ducking past two more lunging creatures, hurled a blazing white bolt of biotic force at it, sending it skittering away with enough power to splatter when it slammed into the far wall. Distracted, he didn't see the thrall leap to his right and vomit over him, acid spewing over his leg. He screamed and collapsed, and two more Marines dragged him away, covering their fall back with scattered bursts of assault rifle fire.

Over two hundred thralls littered the ground, most dead from the flame units or Wrex's shotgun. Shepard glanced around, using the Spectre armor's IR to see through the smoke, and cursed as she saw Garrus.

He was in close combat with the copy of Palavanus, both of them fighting with the long omni-bayonets of the Phaeston and with some kind of turian martial arts. Garrus ducked a wild slash from the turian copy, and drove his bayonet into the thing's leg, firing the weapon as he did so. The copy screamed, but several of the lashing tentacles drove hard into Garrus' side and left arm, and a burst of acid sprayed from each. Garrus staggered back, moaning before collapsing on the floor, and the copy straightened and leveled the Phaeston in its hands at his head.

Shepard cursed. "Wrex! Get Garrus out of here! GO!" She watched the krogan roar and storm forward, slamming thralls aside with his fist and blasting his way in Garrus' direction.

Shepard blazed and flared biotically, flashing across the room in a charge. Their collision sent Palavanus careening away, stopping only when he slammed into a pillar. The thrall's weapon tumbled out of its hands, but the big turian thrall only snarled. "You'll never get out of here alive, Shepard."

Shepard saw that her charge had brought her very close to the Tho'ian proper, and she smiled. "Wanna bet?" She leapt back, and ripped the entire belt of grenades she had off her waist and flung it in the direction of the base of the massive plant. Palavanus screamed in what sounded like rage and ran towards the explosives, and Shepard biotically charged away, locking onto a last group of thralls near the exit.

She burst into them, sending them all flying, putting her ODIN barrel into the last one's face and blowing its entire head off. "Marines, MOVE. We are leaving!" She saw Wrex emerge from the smoke, Garrus flung over his shoulders, sending biotic blasts ahead of him to knock thralls and animals aside. Two more thralls charged at him, and Shepard put both down with a single blast of the ODIN. She began falling back to the entrance, covering Wrex's retreat.

Cole sprayed down another thrall as he fell back, but two more leapt at him, drooling acid with claws outstretched. The Master Chief coolly shot one and grabbed the other by the throat. He barked out, "Williams! Dispatch!"

The creature writhing in his grip had its head blown off a moment later by a shot from Williams, and Cole flung it in the direction of the Tho'ian. As he did so, Shepard's grenades detonated—all twenty of them.

The central pillar that supported the bulk and mass of the Tho'ian shattered, and the explosion incinerated the thrall copy of Palavanus and a third of the Tho'ian's bulk. "Marines, double-time! Get to fucking clear ground. Go!" Shepard ran flat out, pulling a stumbling Corporal Rodriguez along. A heavy explosion sounded within the building as marines poured out of the hexagon-shaped tunnel, turning to cover their retreat.

A moment later, there was nothing but smoke and silence, as the remainder of her marine force staggered out, heaving with exertion. Cole leveled his Revenant at the entryway, but nothing came out. A few seconds later, there was an enormous crash, and part of the building collapsed inwards. Dust and smoke flared out from the entryway, along with chunks of rubble.

Cole peered in, then slung his Revenant. "Passage is sealed, ma'am. I think they're trapped in there, assuming anything survived." He turned his gaze to the marines, and Shepard glanced around as well, wincing as she did so.

She'd gone in with twelve marines, plus Cole, Williams, and Alenko. The lieutenant was laid out on the ground, holding a leg scored with acid burns, gritting his teeth trying not to scream. Williams and Cole were covered in gore, but unhurt for the most part, although Williams was walking as though she'd twisted her ankle.

Of her twelve marines, four were dead, and the form of Private Hallis was unmoving, even while Corporal Jackson applied medigel and cursed at her to breathe. Private Morris was covered in acid burns, most of his armor gone, the jagged edges of bone visible from the stump of his right hand.

Wrex was crouched once again, rubbing his arm where the armor was charred. Garrus lay next to him, moaning, his armor wrecked. Burns covered his chest, and his arm and leg were a mess, acid gunk leaking from punctures in the armor.

Shepard herself didn't have a mark on her.

Shepard sank to her knees, shaking her head. "Normandy. This is Shepard. Send down the other Mako. Hurry. Flight Lieutenant, once we are all aboard, set course for the Citadel, no delays." She clicked off, and wearily turned to face Cole. "Master Chief...put the most heavily wounded on the first Mako and get them back up to the ship."

Cole nodded, but squatted down next to her, speaking quietly. "May not be my place to say, sir, but you know full goddamned well that thing couldn't be trusted. You made the right call."

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "It killed my marines. I should have… planned better. Something." She looked away, her voice cold. "Get my marines back up to the ship, Master Chief. Dismissed."

Cole merely nodded, leaving Shepard to stare at the unmoving, badly wounded Garrus, wondering if he'd survive.


	66. Chapter 57: Normandy, Moments IV

_**A/N: **Work on chapters has slowed a bit, mostly because I'm shifting how I plan to get through the next few chapters. I'm working as fast as I can, but due to the layers of complexity and going full AU, I can't just blaze through a complete re-write of the story in a few hours. _

_Some hints of the sort of problems Shepard has in her personal relationships will first be hinted at in this chapter. They won't be everyone's cup of tea. That's fine. When I said my Shepard was very messed up, everyone of course thought of the ME Canon version of a Renegade, being an asshole, running around killing at the drop of a hat, etc. This Shepard isn't like that. As we go through the story, more and more segments of that persona will come out. _

_After this is a few short fluff segments. Then Cerberus. Hopefully. I keep putting it off. :D_

_The fic of the day is **Demon's Shepard** by Kreiden. A wonderful, wonderful take on Morinth. I fucking hate Samara. :D _

* * *

O-OSaBC-O

The mood on the Normandy was morose, and Liara felt personally responsible for it. The mission on Eingana was supposed to have been safe, simple research. Instead, Liara's suggestions had only ended up leading to the death of four marines. It weighed on her , and she was not able to simply hide away from how it affected the rest of the crew. Chakwas had needed to move equipment and some of the more lightly injured personnel into the quiet environs of the science lab, and thus Liara found herself without a hiding place to pass the time in nervous research.

She sat instead on the mess decks, nursing a cup of warm tea, listening carefully to the crew while pretending to read a datapad in front of her. She'd never really mixed with the crew in any capacity, only putting on a polite smile when getting a tray of food and the occasional chat with Alenko or Chakwas.

Two crewmen sat at the next small table, both from NavOps, and their voices were low, quiet, and didn't travel far enough to be heard clearly. Liara had used her omnitool to pick up the sound and have it dumped as text to her datapad, and thus attracted no attention as she eavesdropped. She wouldn't have done so, but in the aftermath of the conversation with Pressly and the fact the Commander had simply locked herself in her quarters after the mission, Liara figured she needed to know more of what the crew thought before approaching Shepard.

"It looks pretty bad. I mean, you figure – the big shots come down to yell at her, we go on some kind of 'research trip', and then half the goddamned ground team comes back dead. All that decon bullshit we did on Feros we're doing again. What the fuck is going on?" The man who spoke was slender and dark haired, his back facing Liara, revealing nothing but his hands as he made a gesture.

The man facing him had blunt, even features – narrowed brown eyes, crew cut black hair and a line that was little more than a grim slash. His uniform had the rank insignia of a senior tech and the rating device of a NavOps analyst. He glanced down at his plate, picking at his food. "Keep your goddamned voice down, Tom. The blue is just across the way."

The slender figure glanced over his shoulder, but Liara kept her eyes on the datapad. "Oh, her. Shit, she ain't the problem, Phil. She don't even have any ears, man. What I'm saying is simple: everyone is just waiting for Shepard to fuck something up. The aliens don't give a shit – hell, the only reason they even decided to go along was _more_ aliens brought up some proof they'd listen to. It's all well and good to say kill the Saren fucker, but we damn near got dropped with GTS missiles on Therum, and could have been smoked with the rest of the fleet on Feros. Now this. Why don't we have any support?"

The bigger figure shrugged his shoulders, sipping his tea. "You're an idiot, Byrce. Asari don't have earlobes, but they can hear just fine. We don't have any support because a fleet can't find one man, and this trip was supposed to be non-combat. And I don't know what the shit happened down there on Eingana, and I don't want to know. The Commander looked like warmed over dog shit, four dead, everyone else all fucked up –"

The tech named Byrce shrugged back. "And why was that? We knew people were gonna get popped. Hell, I had to do the touch-up on Jenkins when we got him back on board; the bastard had a hole blown clean through his fucking skull ." He sipped his drink and grimaced at the taste. "We're used to people dying. We're not used to having our asses _handed_ to us, though. On Eden Prime the colony got dropped, lost Jenkins, and from the shit on Citadel News, we lost a big Prothean device. On Therum, fuck, ship got holed, half the marines were shot to pieces, and the Commander came back half dead. Feros? Fuck, man, we were like two minutes away from that big black geth ship turning us into atoms!"

Phil was motionless except for his hands, but his voice sounded agitated. "And? Shit, Eden Prime was fucked by the time we got there. They could have sent Branson, Shepard, and Delacor, in a goddamned dreadnaught with Sharblu singing the SA anthem and the entire First Fleet and it wouldn't have saved those people. And as far as the rest goes, we don't get told shit. The Commander makes the calls, we push the buttons. If we hadn't gone in on Therum, maybe the geth would have done that planet like Eden Prime."

Byrce shook his head. "I'm just real tired of ops that go cluster-fuck at the drop of a hat. I'm tired of manning ops alley for 10 hours straight making sure we don't get ghosted by geth, or fucking turians, or Cerberus, or batarians , or who the fuck knows what else. And I'm really tired of places requiring that we vacuum-sterilize the entire ship multiple times. Maybe I'm too goddamned picky."

Phil grunted. "You're too goddamned picky. Would you rather be with the Fifth Fleet, getting your ass shot off chasing pirates and spending six weeks orbiting a goddamned star in the middle of nowhere? Or on the Normandy, heading back to the Citadel and the clubs with triple combat and hazard pay?"

Byrce sniffed. "Won't do none of us no good if we're all dead. We have nineteen centimeters of armor plate. Nineteen! That won't even stop fucking heavy MA fire, man..."

The two men fell silent, and then looked up as Chief Williams entered the mess, Byrce speaking up first. "Chief! Any news?"

Williams shot a look at the door leading to the Commander's quarters, still showing the red square of a locked door. "Just that we're burning space back to the Citadel ASAP. We think everyone still alive will pull through... it will be touch and go." Williams glanced down at the package in her hands. "Just finished with the... effects of the deceased."

Byrce shook his head. "Goddamned shame. Why were we even there, Chief?"

Williams glanced aside at Liara, then shrugged, eyes dark with exhaustion. "We found some evidence linking that ship that Saren has to what killed the Protheans... and probably races before the Protheans. It's pretty heavy shit. The doc over there probably has more information."

Byrce looked dubious, but stood and dumped his food tray in the recycler. "Maybe later, Chief. I'm off to watch, again. Pressed-ass has us standing port and starboard again to make sure we don't get snuck up on." Williams suppressed a grin at the nickname for Pressly, and folded her arms.

He stalked off, and Williams sat down next to Phil. "Hell is eating him?"

The burly tech shrugged. "What's bugging most of the crew, Chief. We don't really know what's going **on**, and we just had our goddamned ass handed to us. The Commander hasn't even come out of her quarters since we did pickup. The krogan is angry, the quarian lady is busy building something, the asari looks fucking _pissed_, and the Master Chief looks like he's gonna punch somebody."

Liara didn't feel pissed, and sighed. If anything, she usually felt like a stupid petitioner in front of the University Council, stammering out explanations of why she needed more research money and being laughed out of the room. She adjusted her position, focusing on the pad and the words of the humans.

Williams scratched her head, her features turning grim. "You know the drill... the less you know, the less you can say to the wrong people. And Shepard went into this trip thinking it'd be… well, safe. We certainly weren't expecting to find what we did down there. I mean, we knew there might be a problem, but I didn't think it would turn out that bad. .. and I think the Commander is pretty upset about what happened."

Phil shrugged. "I'm sure she is. Still, people are on edge. The ground team won't even talk much about what happened down there –"

Phil fell silent as the door to the Commander's quarters chimed softly and slid open. Shepard stalked out in marine BDU's, and Liara couldn't help but gasp. The Commander's face was drawn and grim, her eyes burning with anger, and something else, and she radiated tension. She stormed past everyone towards the elevator, and Williams traded glances with Liara briefly.

Liara licked her lips and stood. "I... I think I will go make sure she is alright, Chief Williams."

Williams nodded. "I'll come with. That didn't look good."

O-OSaBC-O

Wrex examined his armor's leg plate critically. He had brought a spare suit of armor, in case he had to go somewhere that full combat armor would have been a problem, and much like his main suit, Thorian acid had ruined it. He didn't place a lot of faith in armor made by humans, not that the Normandy had anything in his size, and he wasn't thrilled about being given armor, either.

A krogan who took arms and armor from another was acknowledging the giving krogan as a battle master. That was a lot of trust to put in a human, not to mention Wrex hadn't bent knee to any battlemaster in over half a millennium and wasn't about to start now. He would make the point of paying Shepard for whatever she got him to wear. He could, of course, could buy his own armor, but the ugly fact remained that he doubted anything Citadel dealers would let him buy would match what she got him.

Still, the very idea grated at him.

The humans had gone as limp as kicked pyjacks in the hours after the fight on Eingana. Wrex was more sanguine about events. Sure, soldiers died. But they'd discovered that the ship Saren was using was a lot older and probably even more dangerous than they expected. The Shadow Broker had been openly worried at Wrex's report, and was dispatching his own agents to the site immediately.

But the humans seemed more upset that four marines _had_ died than _why_ they died. Wrex didn't understand it, but then again, humans were almost never worth the time to bother figuring out. They could be hard like turians, crazed almost like krogan, but soft like asari as well.

Wrex sat aside the cup of jaaki, a smile stretching his features as he remembered Shields giving it to him before leaving. He set down the plasma cutter and reached for the shaper unit, forcing the curve of the leg joint into a better shape. He was in the process of picking through both suits, trying to see how much he could patch together, when the elevator hissed open and Shepard stepped out.

His eyes tracked her, as she walked angrily towards him. She smelled of rage , and frustration, and something else he couldn't place. Rather than ask, he simply gave her the usual greeting.

"Shepard."

She came to a stop in front of him, looking up. Her eyes were narrowed, tired, and yet full of anger, and her body was tense and tight, almost trembling. Her voice was cool, almost amused, but taut with unspoken emotion as well.

"Wrex."

The krogan gently set his gauntlet to one side, warily keeping his eyes on her. Their relationship was tricky, forged on a single battlefield in a moment of terrible wrath . It had shown him a warrior that was vicious, cruel and almost surgical in precision and terror, but who was still a warrior, not a killer or murderer. And maybe it had shown her all krogan weren't beasts.

But he didn't understand the human female much more than he did any other human. Her moods were mercurial, even if she could hide them from other humans, with their pitiful inability to smell and simply see without cultural filters. Shepard was about a few words away from exploding, and she had come to him rather than another human, which bothered him on many levels.

"You look like someone kicked you in the quad. What you want?"

Shepard gave him a thin, almost mocking smirk. "Need to spar. Work off energy."

Wrex gave an incredulous snort. "Then find one of your piss weak soldiers to do it. Krogan don't spar, Shepard. We fight for blood."

The tiny human actually rolled her eyes at him, and then flexed her hands, making joints crackle. "Like you could fucking touch me, fat-ass turtle. I need to…" Her voice trailed off as her hands clenched, so tight the tendons stood out like steel cords, straining under the skin.

Wrex sniffed again, almost cautiously, and his plates settled back at the taste of the air. She was _scared_, and Wrex didn't think in the slightest that the fear he smelled was of him. Something was seriously wrong with Shepard, and that got his attention at last. He stood, slowly, coming to his full height. "Well, at least when I break your spine, we'll be at the Citadel soon enough for them to fix you back up."

Shepard backed up, to the middle of the cargo bay, balling her fists, moving her balance forward onto the balls of her feet, a few strands of black hair falling into her face. "I hear a lot of talk, Wrex."

With no warning, the krogan lunged leading with a powerful right hook. Shepard ducked under it, sliding right, lifting her leg in a kick catching him in the side. He retaliated as she recovered, arm scything out in a backhand, catching her in the jaw with a savage crack that sent her stumbling, blood spilling from her nose. She didn't even pause, though, turning her stumble into a whirl, sweeping her other leg out to catch him in the knee.

The krogan crashed to the ground and Shepard leapt, driving her heel into his stomach before back flipping out of his return punch. With a grunt he rolled over, coming back up to his feet, arms raised defensively, blocking another kick that was already headed for his side. He jerked Shepard from her feet. His elbow descended, right into the middle of her back, and she fell to the floor grunting in pain.

He kicked out but she literally bent double at the waist, still on the ground, dodging it, then flipped back to her feet. The motion distracted him , and the knife-hand she executed to his right eye was beautifully timed, sending an explosion of pain across his vision, making him stagger. He roared and slammed his head forward, crashing his hard plates into her attempt at a follow up punch, and heard knuckles crunch, likely breaking, as she danced back, hissing in agony. A punch to the stomach and a kick of his own to the human's calf sent her staggering back , holding her stomach.

Wrex blinked blood out of his eye and grinned, as Shepard managed to stagger back onto one leg, hands upraised. She grunted and then hurled herself forward, as if she was going to head-butt _him, _at the last second dropping back to the ground and driving a hammer punch right between his legs with her good hand.

Wrex's grin turned into a grimace as he buckled, thanking every known krogan deity that her punch had glanced off his quad rather than impacting them directly. His face met her rising knee , and the burst of stars in his vision didn't do much for his temper. He roared, the hazy tinge of the blood rage filtering across his sight, and he lashed out with his fists.

Shepard ducked both punches, sending a tattoo of her own strikes against his stomach and ribs, but the krogan merely used them to figure out where she was, and brought both his hugely muscled arms together across her head. The human managed to stay upright as her skull vibrated, her head ringing like a bell, but she didn't even see the straight punch to the jaw that knocked her clean off her feet and sent her flying almost five feet away.

She skidded as she landed, tumbling and then crashing into two pairs of legs. Shaking her head, she looked up blearily to see a horrified looking Liara and a very confused and somewhat angry looking Williams staring down at her from the confines of the elevator. Shepard spat blood, baring her teeth in a cheerfully savage, bloodstained grin. "Sp-sparring, Williams."

Williams glanced up to see Wrex, chest heaving, teeth gleaming, muscles dancing in his arms, looking for all the world like he was going to stomp on Shepard's head. She then took in the bloody face and battered frame of the Commander. "I think you should yield, ma'am. He just handed you your entire ass."

With a grunt of pain, Shepard slowly levered herself up, rubbing her jaw and feeling something click. "Damn, Wrex..." She tried to control her breathing, the rush of blood through her limbs, and winced at bruises already forming on her chest and face. "I lasted longer than I thought I would."

Wrex blinked several times, and seemed to almost deflate a little, shaking his head to clear it of the onset of blood rage. "Ha. You really thought a punch to the quad would take me?"

Shepard gave a lopsided grin. "Had to try, big guy. It worked for Shields."

Wrex rolled his bulbous eyes. "It worked for Shields because she used a _shotgun_..."

Liara finally found her voice. "You were... fighting? Why?"

Wrex turned a sly glance in Shepard's direction. "Krogan counseling." The big krogan rubbed his eye, smirking.

Shepard glanced at Liara, saying nothing, and Williams frowned. "I don't mean to interrupt your, uh, sparring, Ma'am, but I've been... waiting to speak with you. About the effects of the deceased."

The almost exhilarated look on Shepard's face faded, the fire going out of her eyes and the slackness in her cheeks returning to visibility. "Yeah. Sorry. Just... I have the packages and letters to their families done. I … Corporal Smith's fiancée had sent a message to the ship... just gave birth to a baby boy." She wiped her face with her free hand, running it through her hair, shoulders slumped. "I'm so goddamned tired of writing these things."

Liara's eyes softened in sympathy, but she couldn't figure out what to say. _And really, what can you say, Liara? I am sorry that my silly research got your team killed, and if I had not bothered you with it they might still be alive? I am sorry that men died to kill something that was already dying? _

Williams, however, did speak up. "If you needed to talk about it, Skipper..."

Shepard shook her head, eyes shuttering and going cold, her back straightening almost by reflex. "No, Chief. I'm fine. I'll audit their possessions when we get to the Citadel. Thanks for getting that done." Shepard paused, frowning, and then folded her arms. "Go ahead and let the crew know that since we've got wounded I'll go ahead and set shore leave when we dock."

Williams nodded, tucking her datapad behind her back. "Yes, Ma'am." She turned on her heel, returning to the elevator. It closed behind her, leaving Liara standing with Wrex and Shepard in the otherwise empty cargo bay.

The human and the krogan were eying each other, Liara realized, wishing she had any kind of understanding of why a human and krogan would fight hand to hand, clearly pulling punches. As she watched, Shepard wiped a trickle of blood from her nose and gave a smirk to the big krogan. "You got lucky, Wrex, that Ash and Liara came down to interrupt."

Wrex gave a sigh, stomping back over to where he'd been working on his armor. "Shepard, you must have taken a hit to the head down there. But for a human, you fight pretty good. Too bad you aren't a female krogan, you'd have been something else."

Shepard gave an almost gentle smile, Liara watching in fascination. "Flirting again, Wrex?" The big krogan laughed, shoulders shaking with mirth as he busied himself with his armor again, and Shepard turned to face Liara, raising an eyebrow.

Liara bit her lip and spoke up. "Shepard... if you have a moment I need to speak with you as well." She tried to keep her voice calm, but it felt almost as if she was interrupting something she shouldn't.

Shepard merely nodded, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright, come back up with me to my office." Without another word to Wrex, Shepard slapped the elevator controls, waiting for the slow elevator car to descend. "You made any progress on deciphering that stuff on the Prothean data discs?"

The doors opened, and Liara followed Shepard inside. "Not at this time. I have been working on it, but there appears to have been a great deal of linguistic drift between the Nova-era period and the Extinction-period ruins that I am most familiar with, and the time-frame the Protheans were active on Eingana. Some of the translations do not make any sense."

Shepard grunted as the elevator deposited them on the crew deck. "None of this shit makes any sense. Keep working at it, we need to know everything that happened or the goddamned Council is going to look at me like I'm crazy."

Shepard stalked into her cabin, and Liara bit her lip as she entered behind. The room, usually neat, was disheveled. The bed was unmade, covers thrown aside and the pillow askew. Armor was hurled into a rough pile in one corner, and three empty bottles of scotch were sitting on the table in the corner, a fourth half-full bottle near them.

Shepard went over to the small sink in the wall, pulling down a towel and soaking it with cold water before wiping blood from her face with it. She checked the swelling of her eye where one of Wrex's punches had landed , before pulling the cold cloth across the back of her neck and shutting the water off. She paused, flexing her left hand, wincing as pain lanced up and down it and several fingers failed to move.

_Well, fuck, that's broken. Chakwas is gonna love that._

She turned and walked across the room to sit at the small table. "Mind if I smoke?" The asari shook her head mutely, and Shepard flipped a switch on the wall, starting up a vent in the corner, before pulling out one of her cigarettes and lighting it. "So, what's up, Liara?" She tossed the pack and the lighter onto the table almost carelessly, leaning back and puffing on the cigarette in her mouth.

Liara did not sit, instead giving a nervous exhalation and forcing her features and voice to be as calm as possible. "I am worried about you, Sara, and I wish to apologize for causing all of this to happen."

Shepard gave her a curious, flat look, before unscrewing the cap on the scotch with her good hand. She poured another glass, smiling flatly as the liquor splashed quietly, before recapping the bottle. "Causing all what to happen?" She took a sip, then winced, touching her bruised jaw, before taking another shot.

Liara gestured to the empty bottles, helplessly. "If I had not suggested a trip to Eingana, no one would have died. In my zeal I didn't even consider that there might be active Thorians—"

Shepard held up her good hand, eyes narrowed. "If you hadn't thought to test the air, Liara, we'd have gone down there and ended up spore feed. If you hadn't done your analysis, the goddamned thing and his plant turian buddy would probably have struck some kind of deal with the turians who would have eventually showed up. These Thorians, or Tho'ians, or whatever the fuck they call themselves, are a goddamned menace, and I'm not sorry we found and killed this one."

Shepard drank, closing her eyes, leaning back in the chair almost bonelessly. "I'm just...tired of every goddamned operation going south. Either I nearly get myself killed trying to take all the risks, or I use my marines and lose half of them and have to watch them die and kick myself for not planning better. This shit is my fault, not yours. I had every warning this thing was dangerous and I made the call to go in after it anyway. "

Liara folded her arms. "And you blame yourself for what happened down there? That is no more accurate than me blaming myself for the marines who were wounded when you came to rescue me on Therum." The asari took a step closer, cursing her timidity. "You have always thrown yourself in the line of fire. I read your service records; I have seen your bravery first hand. You risked your life on Therum to draw fire from your Marines rather than make them distract the geth."

Liara swallowed and sat down at the table with Shepard, managing to catch her gaze, forcing herself to look directly into the human's storm blue eyes. "But the Tho'ian we found on Eingana was far too protected to assault directly. The building it was in prevented you from simply bombarding it, no matter what Wrex might say – if it survived this long and orbital bombardment from the battle that took down all those ships, your own ships weapons would have done no more damage than the missiles Joker fired did to the skybridge on Feros."

Shepard puffed on her cigarette, shaking her head. "That's no goddamned excuse, Liara. I should have gone in there and taken the thing out myself."

Liara merely looked at her for a long second. "So you could _die_? Shepard, there were hundreds of thralls in there. If you had gone in alone, no matter how skilled you are, you would have died. And if you die, do you really think your government, or the Council, has the political will to really keep up the search for Saren? In a way that will actually stop him?"

Shepard drained her glass. "I don't care." She reached for the scotch, but Liara's hand reached out, cool blue fingers touching her wrist, sending goosebumps up Shepard's spine.

Liara's eyes were wide and open, pools of worry and fear, her entire posture tense. The hand on her wrist was trembling ever so slightly. "Shepard, you are pushing yourself too hard. You are having nightmares, not sleeping, not eating, and not resting. Your idea of stress relief is to get into a fist fight with a krogan. The crew is worried and so is everyone else."

Shepard closed her eyes, the beating Wrex had given her moving towards a dull, throbbing pain that distracted her from the emotions raging inside. "I'm doing the best I can."

Liara shook her head. "No one is questioning your ability, or how well you have done. But you are going to end up getting killed if you continue to blame yourself for everything that goes wrong and throw yourself into every battle as if you want to die."

Shepard pulled her arm free, and topped up the scotch, glaring. "I'm the commander of the mission. I was given the responsibility by the Council, and the Systems Alliance. Those men died today because I didn't plan this right. I was impulsive. I was reckless. Instead of falling back and updating command of the changed parameters, I went ahead and took it out, at the cost of four men. One of whom now has a small baby born this morning."

Shepard drank the amber fluid, slumping back in her chair. "We haven't even been at this a month yet, and it's going to hell. Half of the Fourth Citadel Fleet destroyed. Beacon smashed. Saren probably got more information from the Thorian on Feros than we did, and instead of using the one you found on Eingana, I blew it the fuck up because it angered me." She pulled the cold, wet towel from around her neck, burying her face instead.

Liara glanced around the cabin, unsure how to proceed. She probed the fading shreds of memories she still possessed from their last touch of minds, and frowned. Unable to recall anything useful at all, she pulled out one of Shepard's cigarettes from the pack on the table and lit it, wondering how to reach the human woman.

_Because if you do not the humans are going to relieve her of command, and she will see that as a failure... she does not abide failure..._

Liara looked up, and exhaled smoke. "So you simply plan to give up ?"

Shepard's tired eyes glanced up and met hers. "I knew I'd fail at this task the moment I got it. I was trying to tell Anderson that and he wouldn't listen to me. It's too much. I don't know enough, I don't have the skills needed. I'm no good at making speeches, or figuring out information." She angrily took a drag off the cigarette, lips thinning. "I'm just a thug. Maybe I make an attempt at not being the kind of thug I was on Earth, but am I really any different?"

Liara smiled, helplessly. "I think you are. You used to define yourself by your coldness, your ability to do the job and not be affected. Losing your team after Torfan hurt you. Losing faith in the Systems Alliance hurt you. You could not figure out how to repair it... any more than I can figure out how to repair my connection to my own people. My values and the things that they find important are just too different. The gap is too large, and my will to cross it is too small."

The asari took another puff on her cigarette, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. "But if you think you have failed at your task, you are wrong. The crew is not worried about being killed, or of you failing. They are worried about _you_. So is Williams, and Wrex, and so am I. You have done the very best you could –"

Shepard made an angry slashing motion with both hands , then hissed in pain, having used her broken hand. With a sigh she reached for her drink with her other hand, lifting it to her mouth. Swallowing, she shook her head. "The best I could do? Get a third of my squad killed on a routine mission? What happens when we have to dig Saren the fuck out of where he's hiding?"

Liara shrugged. "Then we may all die. But if that day comes, wrecking yourself by drinking and not sleeping and not... being able to rest will not help you make the right choices. I am not here to debate whether or not you made the right choices on Eingana – I am not a tactician. I am here because you … are not yourself. You are fraying under the stress."

Shepard gave Liara a long, troubled look, the blue eyes unreadable and tired. "I don't have many choices."

Liara shook her head, putting her cigarette down and leaning forward. "Please. I do not have a good way to ask this. Let me help you. Tell me about what is making you so upset, so beaten."

Shepard closed her eyes, leaning back. "The … cipher, whatever the fuck Shiala called it. I got one good night's sleep after that, then it all came back. Visions of Protheans mixed in with my own past. Melting children, flashbacks from the Reds, battlefields and fire and fucking everything dying. All the time. Whenever I try to sleep." She inhaled on the cigarette, then pushed the cherry into the ashes in her ashtray, extinguishing it as she opened her eyes. "All blurred together."

Shepard's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "I have my own senior leaders telling me I'm a jumped up street thug, and to clear everything I do through them. I have a crew I don't understand, and the more I try the more confused I get. I am doing everything I know how, but I hardly know anything."

Liara looked down. "Why did you not tell me about the dreams? I could try to help you with them again."

Shepard shook her head. "It almost killed you. It did kill Shiala. You think I'm going to risk that?"

Liara gave a weary, tired smile of her own. "I think it hardly matters. If you do not let me help, you will not get enough rest. Your mind will be confused and your thinking unclear. Eventually, that will get us killed, or get you removed by your own government. Either way, if you are no longer responsible for me, the Asari will hand me over to the Justicars. It is likely, given the political turmoil my mother has caused with her actions, that I will be held responsible for her crimes and punished. " The asari shrugged weakly. "Either way, I will be dead. At least by helping you, I have a chance to help myself and others."

Liara held out her hand, eyes pleading. "You cannot do everything by yourself, Shepard."

Shepard closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. "It could hurt you—"

Liara's voice grew stronger. "The matriarchs of Thessia say that no fish is caught unless one is willing to brave the dangers of the sea." She kept her hand held out. "And I believe in you."

Shepard grimaced, but winced at the pain lancing across her skull. With a shaky exhalation of breath, she wrapped her good hand around the asari's, and barely had time to say "alright" before the entire world seemed to ignite into fire.

She could _feel _Liara, like a third arm, or phantom pain. She could feel the struggle, the lashing agony as the asari tried to link memories and focus on the Prothean vision. Her body felt like it was being pulled into two pieces, and her limbs felt fuzzy, poorly defined. Her own vision was befouled with broken, jagged images of warfare, chaos, and blood, before everything flashed white and went black.

When Shepard came to she was laid out on her own bed, a pillow propped up behind her head. Liara was hovering over her nervously, her blue eyes shot through with purple streaks, bruises forming along the asari's neck and wrist. "S-shepard! You are alright? Please talk, say something!"

Shepard croaked, her throat tight and dry, then coughed, a sharp, racking cough. "I'm..." She paused. The ugly, heavy pressure in her head was gone, leaving her feeling calm, almost analytical. "I'm fine, Liara. What happened?"

The asari visibly relaxed, rubbing her wrist for a second before jerking her hand away. "I-I managed to keep the focus on the visions, and on the Cipher this t-time. It was easier since the Cipher was making them make more sense, but … the beacon was scrambled badly before you even used it, I think. The memories from it were tangled in your own."

Liara went over to the sink, and filled one of the plastic cups there with water from the tap, bringing it over for Shepard to drink. The human took it gratefully, swallowing it slowly so not to upset her stomach. "I feel a lot better. There were times I was hearing... voices."

Liara nodded. "You were under a great deal of stress. You reacted to the joining of minds, but... you calmed down."

Shepard eyed the marks on Liara's throat. "Jesus, I choked you?" She eyed the bruises on the asari's neck again, noticing how they contrasted with her skin, wondering what it would have felt like to... Shepard sighed , unhappily, as she realized the image was arousing.

_Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Now you're pushing your sick fucking fetish imagery on her after trying to choke her out? Get a grip.  
_

Liara shrugged. "You were... struggling. I am alright, they are merely bruises. The important thing is that you feel better. And that you … aren't suffering anything like those nightmares again. Please let me know if they recur."

Shepard nodded. "It's just...I don't want you to get hurt trying to fix me up. And you already have... twice."

Liara forced a smile, trying to control her emotions and reactions. _Just tell her you want to be her friend and leave it at that! She has let you in more than anyone else already. Silly infatuations have to come second to what must be done. _Shrugging, Liara merely said "We are all in this .. together."

There was a long, awkward moment of silence, Liara sitting on the very edge of the bed, nervously, Shepard stiffly laying there. Avoiding each others eyes.

Liara , desperate for something to break the silence, examined the commander's injured hand, the knuckles swollen and the fingers crooked. "You need to have your hand seen too, and most likely your other injuries, Shepard. I already alerted Dr. Chakwas, but she was asleep. She'll be here soon."

Shepard nodded, and closed her eyes , suddenly tired, trying to let some of the stress bleed away. It gentled the lines of her face, taking Liara's breath away with the transformation. Almost without thinking, Liara gently smoothed Shepard's hair back from her forehead , gently, before realizing what she had done and jerking back. "I-I am sorry. I ..."

Shepard opened her mouth to say something , when the cabin doors opened and Dr. Chakwas entered the room, eyes flinty and hands filled with medical supplies. "Sparring with krogan, Commander? Really?"

Shepard could do nothing but sigh.


	67. Chapter 58: Citadel , Departure III

_**A/N:**__ Oh, man. I got bogged down, seriously, during the end of year, and then went to the dentist about a simple crown repair on one of my teeth, which turned into finding that three of them had decay below the crowns (shoddy work), which lead to the discovery of an infection, multiple root canals, teeth broken below the gumline, bone fragments, and yay, hospitalization and dental surgery._

_I've been fucked up on 15 mg of Vicodin for the past week and a half. Derailed my update schedule completely. I'm not even close to 100% yet, but I've been taken down to 7.5 mg so at least I can think again._

_I've been piecing this chapter together, it's a linking piece, as instead of more time on the Citadel most of what is coming is rapidly moving against Cerberus (and the reveal) and then a stop on Tuchanka and the geth. The end is less than thirty chapters away , if I go according to the outline. _

_The story of the day is one of great satisfaction to me: __**The Madness of Angels**__ , by the incomparable and unmatchable The Naked Pen. _

* * *

The Normandy had docked, and the EMT's from the Citadel came aboard with dispatch, hauling stasis-field equipped gurneys into the ship and down to the medbay. Doctor Chakwas oversaw the transfer, being especially careful with Garrus, who was still badly wounded from the Tho'ian thrall attacks on Eingana. The turian looked beaten, stripped of armor and tucked securely in a crash-medical gurney, bags of cobalt tinted turian plasma hanging from the side of the bed. Chakwas made sure he was secure before having the EMT teams move out the other wounded marines who needed specialist care.

The rest of the crew went through their various shutdown and docking procedures, venting fuel back to tanks, bleeding heat sink fluidics back and purging navigation systems. Marines moved sharply, gathering up the old remains of their battle gear for off-loading – the new armor and weapons Shepard had purchased were waiting dockside, and the armory had to be cleared out before it could get loaded. Shepard had already barked out orders that morning, ordering all hands to standby for general quarters assembly on the docks prior to leave being granted, and now it was just a matter of the crew finalizing the preparations.

Kaidan was propped up in the medical bay, a regeneration package over his leg where acid had seared through his armor in his rush to save Williams. He could hear the booming voice of Master Chief Cole outside, haranguing people to finish post-dock procedures so he could get drunk, and chuckled. He shifted in his bed, and glanced up towards the door as it slid open, revealing the form of Shepard, in regular BDU's.

Kaidan wondered if Shepard was going to discipline him for breaking ranks to stop the thrall from killing Ash. He'd not even been thinking, just reacting, but his lapse allowed the wild charge of thralls that had ended up nearly killing Private Hallis. Shepard looked worn, but not exhausted, and the drawn look had vanished from her features, but bruises marred her complexion – one over her eye, another along her jawline. "What's the diagnosis, Lieutenant?"

Kaidan gave a shrug. "Doctor Chakwas says the burns were mostly superficial, stopped by the armor. I got lucky. I should be back up by tomorrow, at least for light and limited duty. I can oversee the armory shift out if you want, ma'am."

Shepard made a dismissive gesture. "Not necessary. We'll fit the shit out before we depart. Initial med reports look good, Hallis is going to pull through, and Detective Vakarian should be alright." She exhaled. "We are going to have a memorial service for the fallen tonight at 1800, on board. Can you stand with crutches?"

Kaidan nodded grimly. "Yes, ma'am, I will be there."

Shepard said nothing, but her stance shifted ever so slightly, more relaxed. "Good. I'm going to be assembling the crew for an all-hands, nothing you need to worry about. Get healed up and make sure you're back on the ship by 0800 two days from now. The med techs think Garrus will be up by then, so we can't delay further – this trip already took way too much time out of my plans. Admiral Kahoku gave us a briefing data disc, but went ahead with a scout unit to see what he could find about his missing marines. I'll need you up and running for this."

Kaidan nodded again. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be ready. What... are we going to do about the rest of the Marine detail? We're down at least four men, seven if we don't take back on the wounded before we go."

Shepard grimaced. "I put out a request for replacements. We'll see what Fifth Fleet does with it. Best guess, they'll cut us some A's from the 63rd's Marine detachment – I can't imagine anyone _volunteering_ for this lunatic gig." Her grimace grew more strained, and she pushed her hair out of her face. "Doesn't matter, Lieutenant. I want you to get a neural examination while we're here on the Citadel. See how bad your... condition is." She sighed, stepping away. "According to the regs, I'm supposed to sideline you, but I'll make up my mind once I see the report."

Kaidan felt stunned. "Is this because I went after Ash, ma'am?"

Shepard gave a low, throaty laugh. "No, Alenko. I was... irritated by what you did on leave, and the thoughtlessness of what it would mean for your ability to command, but you stopping one of my soldiers from getting killed is not something to be ashamed of." She turned to face him. "But you know as well as I do that if you got your eezo nodes surgically removed and went through eezo detox, you'd have a chance of pulling through DNDD alive."

Kaidan shook his head. "Not a great chance, ma'am. And –"

She cut him off, eyes hard. "That's an order, Lieutenant. Get the exam. If your ratings are already past the point where surgery and detox can give you a shot at survival, then I have no objections to you staying in the fight. But if you can survive it – or even have a shot at it – you should take it. I have quite enough blood on my hands already from those who sacrificed themselves to get the job done, I don't need more."

Kaidan slumped back in the surgical bed, wincing against the pain of an approaching headache. "Yes, ma'am. I'll go get the examination, but from what that doctor on Omega told me, it's already past the stage where corrective procedures would help. I understand you think you're doing the right thing, but even if there's a chance I might make it, there's a larger chance I'd die on the operating table. I'd rather die for a reason, than out of fear."

Shepard turned away. "Understood, but you have my orders."

O-OSaBC-O

The first few hours after docking were a blur for Liara. The humans spent a lot of time bringing on crates of military gear, the new weapons and armor that had been ordered by Shepard, and they had to put it all away and made sure everything was accounted for before doing anything else. Liara discovered that the specialist armor that she'd gotten the specs for had also arrived. She had been ordered to report to the cargo hold for fitting.

When Liara arrived, it was organized chaos. The remainder of the marine team was there, checking weapons, adjusting armor fittings with tools, and installing various armor mods. Ashley Williams was in the corner by the armory table, along with a grumpy looking Wrex, who was in the process of putting on the last piece of the armor, while complaining that it fitted strangely compared to what he was used to.

It was a shiny, ominous black, with heavy thick plates set in hard angles, over a bodysuit of dull crimson traced with black hexagons. It made the krogan look even bigger and more menacing than usual, and he fussed with one of the gauntlets as Williams adjusted something on his back. "There you go."

The krogan grunted, flexing and rolling his shoulders, testing the fit. "For human work, this is decent enough." He didn't notice Williams stiffen, instead picking up the heavy looking helmet and stomping away. Liara hesitated for a moment before walking up. "Chief Williams? I was told to come here for my armor..."

Williams sniffed, and shrugged, grunting as she pulled out a heavy black crate and kicked it open, revealing plates of armor set into black crash foam. "Yeah, it's here. You came in just a jumpsuit, good. Let's make sure there aren't any missing pieces, so we can get your fitting over with. I still have to fit out another fifteen marines and the nav crew, before I can even think about leave."

Williams began pulling pieces out of the box. The suit Liara had gotten was one of the lighter Colossus suits, and it consisted of a two-piece chest unit, leg armor, and a sort of armored coat that came just below the waist, with armored sleeves and heavier plates on the forearms. Liara picked it because it looked more stylish than the ugly, blocky selections everyone else had indicated, as well as the fact it was much lighter.

The leg armor was basically a set of armor-cloth pants with the plates loosely attached to the legs. Once she put them on, Liara found buckles on either side of the armor sections, enabling them to snap together. The boots had a curved shield that slipped smoothly above the knee armor, covering the joint, and the boots themselves were lined with foam and shock absorbers.

Williams helped Liara with the chest-plate, which was worn on a light web harness, and then the coat went over that, buckles on the inside snapping to the chest unit. The armored gauntlets went on last, snapping over pre-installed connectors on the coat's sleeves. The suit felt a bit tight in a few places, but was lined with smart-foam that would wick away sweat while keeping the user's body at a constant temperature. The helmet was a blank-faced bulb, but on the inside was lit with a wide selection of HUD information. "This seems far more than adequate, Chief Williams."

The human woman nodded, fiddling with the shielding unit mod on Liara's belt. "Well, the SA doesn't usually drop a lot of cash on armor for the troops, so this is a nice change. I ended up springing for my own suit on Eden Prime because Onyx was such crap."

Liara frowned, removing the helmet. "Why would your government not issue the troops the best possible equipment? That seems somewhat counterproductive. The asari military outfits the limited troops we field with top of the line equipment..." The asari hesitated as Williams eyes narrowed, and the stocky woman made a snorting sound.

Williams shrugged a moment later, sliding the shield unit shut and standing. "Money, probably. The SA couldn't give a shit about most of the troops raised on colony worlds who aren't full members; it's always about the money. 'Proportionate expenditure', my ass. I have to wonder how many would have been alive on Eden Prime if we had better gear..." She trailed off, anger in her eyes, and Liara stepped back a pace.

Liara wondered briefly if she had said something wrong, but the human woman merely turned back to her armory table, hauling out another crate. "Nothing to be done about it now, Doctor. If you don't need anything else, I've got to get the rest of the unit up to speed."

"O-of course, Chief Williams. Thank you for your help." Baffled by the woman's suddenly brusque manner, Liara wandered back towards her lab, when Shepard's voice sounded over the ship's comm system. "All hands, assemble topside in fifteen minutes for a word before leave."

Liara couldn't help but wonder what that would be about.

O-OSaBC-O

The crew was assembled on the docks, most of them in civilian attire ready for leave, as Shepard strode across the gangway and to the front of the formation. She looked tired, but other than that normal, her pantherine stride confident and cold, expression blank, uniform perfect.

She came to an abrupt stop, gazing over the crew. The ops techs, the engineers, the navigators, the marines. The aliens. Her eyes took in each one there, briefly, before she took another step forward and spoke.

"So far, things haven't gone as well as we'd have liked. We lost some good people on Eingana. We had a close call on Feros. I'm sure some of you are worried about what is going to happen, or disturbed about the losses we took, or are concerned about how little support we have."

Shepard paced to her left, hands folded behind her back, narrowed blue eyes scanning across the crew. "But the ugly truth is that we lost four when the turians on Eingana lost a whole company of troops. The reality is that we're in this by ourselves because sending a fleet after this lunatic only ends up like Feros did, with thousands dead and dozens of ships destroyed and damaged. The reality is that you are soldiers, and this mission is against some of the most dangerous beings in this galaxy."

"Some of you are going to die." The voice was cold, unfeeling.

"I certainly don't want that. I have a reputation of getting the job done at any cost, of sacrificing men to get to the target, and of being reckless in combat. The last is certainly true. But I have never sent men to die where I wasn't willing to go myself. And I won't start now. On Eingana, we had a choice. We could have finished that thing off, or backed off and called for assistance."

"Either way, someone was going to die. Maybe our marines, maybe other marines. But that thing was a threat, one we simply could not ignore, and SA orders were to take it out. Regardless of what kind of fancy-ass title and capes they give me, I am still an Alliance Marine and I follow orders. If you feel we should have backed off and waited for support, keep in mind we didn't know if Saren knew about this second Thorian, and I wanted to get clear before his fuck-all battleship showed up."

She moved to the right, head tilted. "However, given that we are going into greater danger, as I said before the trip started, I've ordered better weapons and armor, and we have those now. We'll be doing some training and drilling before moving on to the next designated target. We believe targeting Cerberus will give us insight into why they are helping Saren and possibly intel on Saren's location or goals. It will be dangerous. A group of marines sent to investigate has failed to report in and is, in all likelihood, already dead."

Shepard came to a halt, then turned to face them. "This is not a Systems Alliance operation. It is not a Council operation. It is most certainly not what you probably signed up for. It is nothing less than the single-minded pursuit of a fucking nutjob who plans, quite possibly, to bring back a race of aliens that killed the Protheans. How he plans to do it, or why, we don't know. But we have to stop him, and if that means people die, then they die. We are going to find him, and put enough rounds in his skull to kill a krogan, before he succeeds."

Shepard squared her shoulders, eyes narrowing to cold windows of pure rage. "But each of you has a choice to make. We have three days leave, since we're waiting for some of our people to recover from injuries. At the end of those three days, I expect everyone back on this ship. If, during your leave, you decide you're not capable of serving, or are worried about what will happen to you, notify me. I will have the 63rd Flotilla send me a replacement. I don't want anyone on-board when we depart who doesn't want to be there, helping to defend the galaxy."

She made a dismissive gesture. "Leave is set. First watch section has the watch; the officer of the deck has the deck and the conn. VI, log the time." Without another word she turned on her heel and walked back towards the ship, while the crew broke up. The few who had watch followed her inside; the rest began gravitating to the taxi stand.

Liara quietly followed the human commander back inside the ship, still wearing the heavy armor she'd fitted with Williams. "Shepard!"

Shepard paused, glancing over her should. "Yes?"

Liara came to a halt, mind blanking suddenly as it always did when Shepard stared at her with her full attention, stammering out the first thing that popped in her head. "Y-you said something about presenting what we found on Eingana to the Council. Do you want me there for that?"

Shepard nodded once, coolly. "Yes. Won't be today, though. There's going to be a funeral for the marines we lost at 1800. Human burial customs are different than asari, we don't do space burials unless we absolutely have to. After that, I figure we can head to the Council in the morning, assuming they'll see us." Shepard glanced down at Liara's armor, raising an eyebrow. "They make it in armored coat form?"

Liara gave a weak shrug. "I did not feel like I was up to moving around in forty pounds of heavy battle armor. Between an upgraded shield generator and my own barriers, I believe this is more appropriate, although the color does not seem to suit me." She picked at the red trim of the armored coat, and Shepard failed to suppress the slightest of wry smiles.

"God forbid your color balance is off during a fight, Liara. Sorry, I'd like to talk more, but I have a report to make to SA High Command, and it's not a happy one. I'll catch up with you later." With that, Shepard moved off, confident, head held high, grim and determined.

Liara compared her to the stressed, barely coherent figure of rage she'd seen yesterday, and wondered briefly what was tormenting Shepard so in her nightmares. It was good to see her back to normal, but there always seemed to be a cool sort of distance between Shepard and everyone else when she wasn't angry.

Liara was also thinking about nearly being choked by Shepard, and the alarmed, ashamed and somehow embarrassed reaction Shepard had shown clearly on her face when Liara let her know what had happened. She wasn't sure how to interpret all the other expressions on Shepard's face or why she was avoiding her now. She decided to work on cleaning up the Eingana data for the meeting with the Council, and to think about this further.

O-OSaBC-O

The next morning was nearly as chaotic as the landing. Shepard's full report to the SA High Command had been taken with several grains of salt – many of the political entities in High Command didn't want to believe in a foe that had vanished fifty thousand years ago as still being a danger. Admiral Vandefar carefully scrutinized most of Liara's work but couldn't find any faults with it, but said that didn't prove anything. Just because Saren had found an old Reaper ship and had it repaired didn't mean his crazed idea of bringing back the Reapers was something to be taken seriously.

Frustratingly, the Council pretty much took the same line, albeit with some concern by the salarian councilor. Liara's primary point – that if the Reapers had taken out the Inusannon and Tho'ian and then fifty thousand years later taken out the Protheans, then it wasn't beyond the realm of plausibility to assume they were still out there somewhere – was dismissed by Sparatus with an air-quoted charge of "fairy-tale thinking".

Rather than admit the serious danger, the Council wanted to focus the war on the obvious and direct actors – Cerberus and the geth. Unable to convince any of her superiors that Liara's hunches tended to be right on the money, Shepard departed the Council chambers in a bad mood, Liara trailing listlessly after her, murmuring calming phrases.

The crew leave situation was under control – Pressly was keeping careful watch on crew activities – so Shepard decided to check on her injured Marines and Garrus. Arriving at Nathla Memorial, she found that the humans had been transferred to Huerta Memorial Hospital. She decided to visit Garrus first, and tromped through a maze of corridors choked with doctors and medical equipment to find his room, on the third floor overlooking the gardens.

Garrus was awake, propped up in bed, and looked mostly normal as Shepard opened the door. "Commander! Didn't expect to see you here." The grey eyes looked a tad dulled, probably from pain meds, but the ugly thick white bandages that swathed his plated torso spoke well enough of his injuries.

Shepard shrugged. "Just checking on my sniper. What did the doctors say?"

Garrus humphed, mandibles shifting. "That I was damned lucky. Whatever that mockery of Palavanus hit me with was acidic, but it was dextro in nature. That's why it was so lethal to your men, the vomit and acid also causes chirality reactions. I've got some bad burns, but it looks like the plating actually neutralized most of it. They've got me on a plating regenerator every three hours, and will let me out tomorrow."

Shepard exhaled in relief. "Good news...but what were you thinking, going man-to-man with a giant fucking turian zombie? You're damned lucky he didn't snatch your head off, those things are horrifyingly strong."

Garrus winced, rubbing his face. "I know, the bastard broke two of my facial plates with a single backhand. But he was a sniper in life, and after he took out one of your men with a snapshot I knew if I didn't get up in his face and stop him, he'd maul anyone else who tried."

Shepard folded her arms. "That's not the point."

Garrus frowned, tilting his head, tracing his talons across the bed sheet almost musingly. "Isn't it? I'm sorry, but I told you when we met, I'm a bad turian. I'm not one to sit back and let the danger take me out when I can stop it through action. I've seen you fight and lead, you take incredible risks and twice you've been torn up so bad you needed hospitalization. From what I hear you walked into a club of armed gangsters on the Citadel without a stitch of armor or even a real gun. Seems odd you are upset I took some risks."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Battle Chicken, I _am_ a damned weapon. I have my barrier and biotics to protect me and fight with. Charging into the fray to down the bad guy is one thing, charging into combat with a thing like that and moving beyond the support of the team – especially in a chaotic battle situation – is entirely another." She gestured to his form in the bed. "You're a crack shot with a sniper rifle. How much of this is really about the best way to do it and how much is that you were pissed the thing was mocking someone you knew?"

Garrus shrugged uncomfortably. "I knew Vorkus, very slightly. He was always a holier-than-thou asshole with a stick up his chute...but no one deserved to die like that. The thing actually had the audacity to act like IT was Palavanus when his body was there on the floor. It got to me, admittedly." The turian paused, then shrugged. "But in the chaos of the fight, with smoke from burning plant zombies and needing to maneuver, getting a shot off wasn't going to be that easy, either. I made the call, and it worked out."

Shepard sighed. "You're an important part of my team, Garrus. Leave the suicidal charges to me and Wrex. I'm not doubting your judgment about the guy's sniping ability – but as ugly as it sounds, if I have to make a choice between one of my marines and you, I don't want to know what I'll do, and I'd rather you not put me in that kind of situation."

Garrus nodded. "Understood, Commander." He paused, then flicked his mandibles. "Did the Hierarchy respond to your reports yet? I presume you made a full report to the Council..."

Shepard sighed. "Udina ate that shit up, basically lecturing the Council for being all sanctimonious about what Exogeni was doing even while the turians were doing the same thing. It turned into a boring debate and I basically ended up tuning it out entirely. Let's ignore the people who died, let's focus on blame and who is right and wrong... idiots..." Shepard scowled, and Garrus laughed.

"You shouldn't be surprised by now, Shepard. The council hates it when people call them on their whole 'do as I say not as I do' act. Still, the Hierarchy researching things like the Tho'ian … troubles me. It makes me wonder what my government is up to."

Shepard nodded, remembering the sick feeling of betrayal when she'd first learned about the Thorian on Feros, and the feeling of the floor dropping away under her feet when the Fleet Master hadn't denied other horrible acts she'd accused him of, merely implying necessity was more important than decency. "I get the feeling I've been blind to a lot of things about my government, caught up in my own problems and fuckups. But hiding from it won't make it go away, only dragging it into the light will."

Garrus nodded, then sighed as two asari came in. One was clearly a medical practitioner, but the other one wore light C-sec armor, and had a fixed scowl on her face. "Dr. Anasi, how nice to see you."

The asari doctor nodded and checked the haptic medical interface panel on the wall. "You're recovering well, Detective. Sergeant Telanya asked about your condition so ..."

Telanya folded her arms grimly, glaring at Garrus, who shifted in his position. The doctor glanced over at Shepard and nodded. "We need to start the next plate regeneration process in about 20 minutes, so if you can wrap your visit up by then that would be wonderful." She withdrew from the room, and as the door closed Telanya turned her gaze from Garrus to Shepard.

Shepard tilted her head. She'd never really pinned down her preferences – sometimes guys attracted her, sometimes women – but asari always looked good to her, and Telanya was no exception. The C-sec plated armor clung to the asari's frame; it's black and blue complementing the woman's purplish-blue skin tone.

_Garrus has nice taste. _

Beautiful dark grey-blue eyes dominated the otherwise petite face, looking almost vulnerable even in anger. And they were very angry, sending a clear, unmistakable message to get lost.

Normally, Shepard would have responded to such a challenge, but given that the woman was clearly here for Garrus, this must be his bond mate or girlfriend. Getting involved in THAT was simply not worth the headache. Shepard glanced at Garrus. "I should go." She inclined her head to the asari and stepped out, sighing.

O-OSaBC-O

_Well, there went my backup. _

Garrus glanced up at Telanya, who'd folded her arms again after glaring Shepard out of the room. Which, in its own way, was terrifying enough – when you can glare a stone-cold killing machine of a Spectre out of a room, you must be pretty pissed.

"So, Garrus. Not going to get killed, you said." Her voice was taut with anger, and Garrus sighed, spreading his hands.

"Tel, the mission had to be done. I can't go into details, but what we stopped had slaughtered an entire unit of the turian military and over twenty civilians. Shepard lost four of her people and several more are in the hospital with worse wounds than mine."

The slender asari rubbed her forehead. "I'm running customs when I get a flash from my partner that the Normandy's back in dock. First thing the newscast shows is you in a life-support gurney being hauled away unconscious. Next thing is the boards lighting up with stories that you are dead. Then I spend most of yesterday getting a run-around trying to find out if you're alive and how to reach you. Am I not supposed to be upset at that?"

Garrus looked away. "If it makes you feel any better, that's what she was here for, tearing my mandibles off for being too aggressive. She basically ordered me to sit back and snipe from a distance." He turned his head back to face Telanya, firming his mandibles to his jawline. "I'm happy to see you too, dear."

Tel threw up her hands in frustration. "I suppose I'm being the unreasonable one in this!? 'Oh, silly Tel, don't you know it's perfectly normal for your man to come back looking like a haunch of meat in the market, plastered over the extranet with headlines like 'turian detective brutally killed by human blunders'?"

Garrus frowned. He'd not seen any news stories while he was here, not surprisingly since he'd been unconscious half that time. "Shepard didn't make any 'blunders', the Hierarchy did."

Telanya shrugged. "They wouldn't even tell me where you were, Garrus. I dialed the Executor, but Pallin had no clue if you were alive or dead. The human embassy said it was a 'Spectre matter' and thus classified, and the Spectres didn't even bother to return my calls. I placed six calls to the C-Sec secure docks but they were all blocked since I didn't know an access code!"

Garrus sighed. "I'll make sure Shepard has ... some way to let you know I'm okay in the future. I'm sorry for not thinking of that before." His voice gentled. "I'm fine, Tel. Just need to be patched up a little. Everything's going to be fine."

The asari trembled a long moment before shaking her head. "I don't think I can do this, Garrus. Hearing all this rumor-mongering, watching for news and hearing nothing. I can't even get a message through the extranet to you!"

Garrus wished he was well enough to get up, cross the room and hold her, but his body was way too torn up for that. Grunting in pain he sat up a little straighter, frowning. "Tel, like I said – I have to see this through. I'll make sure to let Shepard know that I need to have some way for you to reach me, if only to bring you some peace of mind – but security on the ship is insanely high, it's the most advanced human ship in their fleet and they're already not wild about having aliens on board..."

Telanya closed her eyes, exhaling several times. "I came here to make sure you were okay. To see for myself you weren't dead. I just don't know…"

Garrus glanced down at the sheet, curling his hands into tight, frustrated fists. "Do you want me to tell her I can't go on, Tel?"

The asari was silent for long seconds, staring blankly at the wall. Garrus spoke again, frustration edging the harmonics in his voice. "I told you before. If you ask -"

Tel waved a hand in annoyance. "I know, Garrus. That's what makes this hard. Someone has to stop Saren, and you feel responsible. And if you stop now you'll always have that gap, wondering if you were good enough, or who died because you weren't there. You know I can't ask you to do that."

Garrus shrugged. "If it's a choice between losing you and losing this chance, I already made up my mind a long time ago. It would be the same if I had to choose between you or C-Sec. It was the same when I decided to cover for you rather than take the move to External Affairs." Pain slowly leached into his voice. "I chose you every time."

The asari glanced over her shoulder at him. "And what has that cost you already? How many other women did you not give a flip about because they didn't make those protective instincts kick in? How much can I say you matter to me when I can't really do anything but fall apart when you aren't here or when you get hurt?"

The turian snorted. "That's vantha dung, Tel. You aren't weak, and I'm not in this because I need to protect you. I'm in this because I love you. And it wouldn't matter if I was here or on the streets – I could have taken a bullet doing Special Investigations just as easily. You have to decide, I guess, if I'm worth the worry and the pain, or if … I'm not."

She finally walked over to him, planting a kiss on his fringe, sighing. "I know. I have a really tough choice to make. I either walk away, or give it my all." She exhaled, eyes bleary for a moment, then touched his wrist gently. "They'll need to give you your treatment, but call me when they release you; I'll come pick you up. We need to talk."

Without another word, she stepped away and left, leaving the turian pensive and confused as to what she could possibly have meant by giving it her all.


	68. Chapter 59: Shepard, Liara I

_**A/N:**__ What you've been waiting for, part one. No, not the schmex. That still comes later. _

_It turns out it's extremely hard to write a scene with two completely socially dysfunctional people and have it sound awkward, but not stilted. I know some people will disagree with the direction my Shepard is pointed at – but go re-read between the lines in her Dossier I put in earlier in the fic, and the anomalies should stand out. _

_I certainly did not want a "omg u r so fascinating but we must think of zee mission furst" thing going on. Shepard touches on it, but admits to herself she's already compromised. I want to have a relationship that does not merely follow the old , tired formulas but makes people think about the nature of fundamental attractions between broken people. _

_The fic of the Day is actually not on , but a different website; the Miracle at Palaven, a story (found through the fanfic recs on TVTropes for Mass Effect) that is __hosted at _

_ threads/mass-effect-3-the-miracle-at-palaven.239502/_

_ Covers what actually went down on Palaven, including Kal'reegar's death. _

* * *

The crew was on leave, the Normandy silent, dark, and mostly empty. Engineer Adams had used the idea of a three-day downtime to convince Shepard that more work needed to be done on the superstructure, making sure stress fractures from the crazed acceleration into Feros were fully repaired, as well as completely flushing the IES coolant loops and doing a bio-hazardous decon of every inch of the s hip.

With repair crews and dockside security onboard, there was no need for topside watches, only a single duty watch. Given the condition her crew's morale, Shepard, after a ruinous morning spent with the Citadel Council, had thus retreated to the ship, tucked herself into her quarters, and tried to decompress. She'd routed the ship-systems displays to her own quarters and dismissed the below-decks watch to go ashore.

She was sitting up on her bed, sipping a glass of scotch and reading the files Udina had given her on political relationships and human psychology. It was interesting stuff – when humans had only to deal with other humans, politics was mostly just lying to the majority to remain in power, while feeding the hand that fed you – big business, the military, so on. With alien psychologies, cultural divides between colonies and the Earth, and the ruinous cost to maintain Earth's arcologies, politics had become a minefield, more akin to a mix of psychology, xenology and political science than mere glad handling.

She'd read for an hour, and she was already lost.

She'd studied a lot in the military – hours spent every night in the library trying to bone up on basic knowledge, and more in the Academy – but psychology and politics were not taught to younger officers, and as a member of the RRU she'd always had Major Kyle to do the smooth talking for her.

Now, given her position, she had to learn quickly how to at least to look like she knew how to play the game, even if the rules were a mystery and the game board was incomprehensible. She tried to focus on the information in the pad, but her mind kept wandering to the three things troubling her – Kaidan, her own abilities, and Liara.

Her conversation with Kaidan still rubbed her the wrong way on some level, although she couldn't pin down why. Ignoring a chance to lead a normal life—to perhaps raise a normal family away from the strife and frequent danger of military service, especially when continuing to serve would definitely kill you—made no sense to her. But she was sure, on some level internally, that Kaidan's selflessness was no act, nor was it something he was doing out of impulse.

If she examined her own beliefs closely, she had never done much of anything selflessly. Every action was a calculation; every response was made only after weighing the odds and outcomes, except those taken when her anger overwhelmed her. Everyone had a measurement, a worth, a cost that could or could not be paid.

She valued her crew the most highly because they were the ones she needed to depend on the most to save her own life. They were the ones, usually, who she could trust not to turn on her, or to demand that she be something she wasn't. The concepts of 'friendship' or 'affection' weren't unknown to her, but those were emotions. She couldn't plan off of emotions, and often times they were only flashes of affection, not something that should determine her plan of action. And she didn't understand them, fully, either, making it even harder to depend on such things as a baseline.

She valued the law, but only inasmuch as she hated criminals because they made people like her possible. She didn't really care if the law was violated, but rather hated the idea of the criminal, the person who could force and take what they wanted without consequences even if it hurt others. Slavers, rapists, murderers, pirates, sand dealers – they all needed to die.

If her feelings of affection and happiness were fleeting and spaced far apart, her anger and rage were nearly constant. Hate drove her will to fight, to shrug off what would kill others. When she attacked, she saw the leering, monstrous faces of her abusers and owners. When she shook off a hit, she imagined jeering gang members over her, kicking her while she was down.

Kaidan didn't seem borne down by these kinds of demons. His life wasn't, as far as she could tell, some kind of walking revenge for the things he'd suffered in his youth. It was clear that he had regrets – on the way back to the Citadel, he'd told her of his biotics instructor and how putting the turian down had cost him the regard of the girl he'd saved – but it wasn't as if that had derailed his entire life.

Shepard couldn't wrap her mind around why he was making the choices he was since he was free of those issues. And it bothered her because it made her question the actual reasons why she was living her own life the way she did. She couldn't afford that, couldn't afford any more self-doubt now, when she already was painfully aware of all the things she didn't know or wasn't any good at and how critical the mission was.

Despite herself, she couldn't stop wondering if Branson, humanity's hero, or even Delacor would have actually made the better choice. She knew, in a fight, she was better than them both. She was biotic, they weren't. She had the edge in speed, in strength, in raw tactical ability. But she wasn't a specialist in naval combat, she didn't have the larger scale battalion level experience the other two men did, and most of all, she didn't have the background in diplomacy and politics they did.

Branson was a bigot, and full of himself, but he'd shown on Elysium he wasn't weak. With his fame and the admiration of most of humanity, he'd have gotten much more support from the SA in this mission than she was. Branson's bigotry towards aliens, however, might have meant that none of the leads acquired that had actually pointed to Saren's guilt would have been followed up on – she couldn't imagine him bothering to listen to a quarian teenager, and Wrex would have never approached him.

Delacor was too emotionally unstable, and had gotten so used to being the sole survivor that he was almost as bad of a jinx as Shepard herself to the common enlisted grunt. Thresher Maws, asteroid strikes, freak drive malfunctions, unexpected solar storms – the man had lost more soldiers through bad luck than Shepard had gotten killed through brutal tactics. Still, Delacor was polished, calm, level headed, a good tactician, and open-minded. The SA might have been more supportive of him as well, in the long run.

She didn't know. She was certain that there were people in the SA who'd set up this position for their own purposes, and she wasn't sure yet how she fit into that. Her requests for SA intelligence assets or N7 reinforcements had been denied. Her request for intel reports on Saren, or even additional ship units, had also been denied. Officially, the word was that nothing was available; unofficially the understanding was that Shepard already had the SA's most advanced warship, stop asking for more from us and ask from the Council. She wasn't even certain she'd get replacements for her dead Marines yet.

Asking the Council for support was no better. Even Shepard wasn't fool enough to trust anyone the Council proposed to join her investigations; at best they'd be secretly looking for reasons to suggest Shepard wasn't a good Spectre, at worse they'd be outright spies trying to figure out how the Normandy's cloaking systems worked. The aliens she had on board already were causing enough issues with SA command.

Besides being worried about Kaidan's choices, and about her own fitness for this mission, she was also thinking about Liara. Shepard had never been very clear on relationships. During her time in the Penal Legions, she was only trying to survive. After, with considerably more freedom, she'd decided that figuring out what she wanted with 'normal people' wasn't safe and had spent more than a little money on prostitutes, both male and female.

Hurting people turned her on, dominating them, making them submit. She didn't know if it was something to do with what she'd been through as a child, or if she was just trying to impose control on something she barely understood, but it had been that way since her 20's. She got carried away several times, leading to sexual assault complaints, which had all been dismissed due to the fact that Shepard never involved other soldiers and maintained an ice-queen reputation to everyone military.

The fact that she'd been so worried the military would disapprove and thus, never showed any hints of attraction to anyone she served with, had eventually blinded her to the signals that some of her own squad found her attractive. Not that she could have gone through with it – it wasn't that she didn't find Bea beautiful, or John attractive – but that hurting the people she'd literally grown into adulthood with seemed... wrong. It just never really crossed her mind. She wanted to be... liked, for who she was, without having to pretend she was something else. And yet, at the same time, she wanted everything at arm's length so it wasn't so confusing.

Her having to kill one of her crew had been bad enough, the rest deserting her had hurt her in ways she didn't think she'd ever really recover from. Kneeling there in the dirt had driven home the final nail that, no matter military achievements, she was truly a worthless human being, especially if the people she felt closest to wouldn't even give her a second chance.

It had made her colder, icier, and increasingly angry and brutal, culminating in the eventual murder of the asari responsible for her slavery and her child in cold blood, against direct orders and the law. Her control was slipping and sooner or later, Delacor would have been forced to try to stop her. That would have been the end for her, either way.

Instead, unexpectedly, she'd been whisked away, put back under the one man who had unshakable faith in her and who was the closest thing she had to a real father. Then she'd been given an incredible assignment and literally handed a group of people who inspired trust and affection, mixed in with people she knew from experience wouldn't betray her and people who made her question her own blind conclusions. Williams touching, simplistic offer of friendship; Tali's innocent yet determined will to prove her people's worth; Wrex attempting to pretend he wasn't pleased to see her – these simple actions, the words from Joker about acceptance, even the media out pour of support after she'd been named a Spectre – these had shaken her self-despair, and for the first time in her life, given her the strength to actually risk caring about people.

But Liara had gone far, far beyond that – in the moments they had inadvertently touched each other's souls, Shepard saw things she'd never expected to see or feel. The same isolation, the same confused misunderstanding, the same fear of never being accepted. Liara was, in her own way, as broken as Shepard, and yet had not let that stop her from pursuing her dreams and interests, or stop her from at least trying to continue on and find something to make her happy.

Liara never demanded anything, she always tried to be helpful but downplayed her own large and important contributions, and never questioned Shepard's judgment – except that one time when it was about Shepard's own safety. Liara tried to calm Shepard down, dealt with her nightmares, and put up with Shepard's own issues.

She rubbed her temples, tossing the pad aside, and reached for her drink again. It was complete madness to be attracted to a member of your crew. She'd just lambasted Kaidan for this, and she knew full well exactly how stupid the idea was. Sandra had seduced her, used her, made her believe in lies, then betrayed the entire 2 RRU on orders from some SA goon. She'd used Shepard's loneliness and need for affection against her, and it had cost a lot of men their lives.

Shepard didn't think Liara was like that at all, but the issue wasn't that Liara was out to hurt Shepard. Relationships like that placed a strain on the unit. How could Shepard be clear-headed when it came to combat or assigning battle roles when she'd be worried about Liara all the time?

Yet it was already there. How many men would have died on Eingana if she'd been willing to put Liara in harm's way? Would an extra biotic throw or two saved at least one of them?

Shepard stood up from the bed, checking the ship-systems display. The core had been taken offline, the ship was running on dockside power now, and Shepard went ahead and remotely killed the nav computers and secondary engineering systems. She turned, pulling open her locker to withdraw another bottle of scotch, when the door chimed.

Raising an eyebrow, she checked her appearance – BDU pants, t-shirt, socks – and paused to pull on her uniform jacket, sealing it shut before saying "Come!"

Liara came through the door, having changed out of her armor and into one of those all-too-tight University uniforms. "I came to check on you – I ran into Master Chief Cole and he said you had dismissed all watches and said you would handle it yourself."

Shepard shrugged, turning back to her bed, placing the scotch and her glass on the table next to it before flopping down. "I'm not really big on going out on leave. Usually I'd just study something, practice my marksmanship or biotics, or rest up. It's not like people are all 'Oh, let's invite the batshit crazy woman who can't make small talk to the club with us', after all."

Liara sat carefully in the chair at the table in the corner of her quarters, placing her hands on her knees, her serene gaze fixed carefully on Shepard. The asari just watched, not judging, but worried, and Shepard glanced away. "Anyway. What's up, Liara?"

The asari woman shrugged, finally looking away from Shepard to trail her gaze over the room. "I see you have cleaned up. And you look much better. I mean... that is, you look like you have gotten some sleep. Have you had any more nightmares?"

Shepard snorted. "The usual ones, not the ones that make it where I can't sleep." She paused to drink, lips twisting into a bitter smile. "Sometimes, that's the best you can do. Although I'm starting to get why Anderson drank so damned much, it dulls the pain." Her expression twisted further, before blanking entirely. "Does it matter if the sleep is filled with half-remembered regrets, and fears and pain, as long as you wake up rested?"

Liara winced. "What hurts you, Sara? Why do you let the past define you so?"

Shepard glanced up at Liara, storm blue eyes meeting sea blue. For long, silent seconds they simply stared at each other, before an almost gentle smile broke across the planes of Shepard's face. "I don't know how to get away from it, marazul. If I did, I would. I've been defined by others all my life. My parents used me and then sold me, my owners used me and then paid the price, but in making them pay, I ended up in the hands of gangs. When the SA freed me from that, they made me into a slave of their own, and in freeing myself of that I still owed them servitude for forty years."

She examined the amber fluid in her glass before draining it. "Now I'm ostensibly one of the most powerful people in the galaxy, above all laws, commanding the most advanced space ship in space, with a quarian princess, an exiled krogan king, and a member of the Thirty Families." Liara's expression grew pained, but she didn't interrupt. Shepard continued. "And yet, despite this, I'm still a tool for others to use. I decide nothing of my own path, or my own goals. I don't even know what I'm doing at this point. I'm a puppet with strings I can't see but feel all too clearly."

Shepard shrugged. "The past defines me because it's all I have left. I've been thinking all day and everything I think of makes my head hurt and is more confusing."

Liara nodded, slowly. "When something is confusing, the key to wisdom is to stop asking why or what and begin asking how. Instead of worrying about why a certain problem is occurring, or what one did to deserve this, you have to ask how you will move beyond it. My mother felt bad memories should be sealed away, otherwise they would poison us slowly for the rest of our lives."

Shepard frowned, thinking on that. "I dunno. Would I be a happier person if I wasn't weighed down by so much goddamned baggage? Yeah, I would. But I wouldn't be _me _anymore either. The rage and hate I feel drive me to do things other people can't do."

Liara examined her hands. "There are other emotions beyond hate, fear, and rage, Shepard. And there are other reasons to fight than out of memory of the wrongs committed against you. Life is about moving beyond adversity, not focusing on what we have lost. If that is the entire orbit of your life, it seems to me that you will always be stuck in place. You have to…" The asari faltered, almost nervously, as if searching for words, "...find reasons to be happy."

Shepard gave a shrug, leaning back, crossing her legs. "I don't have a lot of that to go on, Liara. To be honest, it's not like a lot of people have ever tried to 'prop me up' or keep me going in the face of bad shit. Being happy means being able to let go of the pain because you have something better to replace it with. Sometimes, it's easier to just... let the hate win, and dream of a day when it'll all end ."

Liara's eyes suddenly limned with tears. "You truly wish for that? You feel yourself so worthless, so undeserving of … care, of anything, that your lot in life is merely to be slaughtered for the ambitions or desires of others?"

Shepard frowned, sliding to the edge of the bed, staring at Liara. "Hey... it's okay. No need to get all upset." She found herself suddenly distressed that the asari was so affected by her words. Did she have to pretend that she didn't feel this way to keep her from flipping out?

Liara wiped her eyes, shaking her head. "No, it isn't okay. I think perhaps the most evil thing I have ever seen in my years is what I saw happen to you when we shared memories, and I cannot get out of my mind the images of what those men did to you. I can understand your rage. However those men died, it was not painful enough or brutal enough to fit the crime."

Shepard blinked, then nodded slowly. "Trust me, I wasn't quick with it. The one responsible for most of the damage I dunked in boiling ammonia until he sloughed his entire body off his own skeleton. And the bitch responsible for me being sold got to watch her own child get killed before I offed her."

Liara winced, then shook her head. "That is exactly what I am saying. Vengeance is not a goal, it is merely something to drive you along a path. What do you want from life? If we killed Saren tomorrow, and everyone was grateful – what does Sara Shepard want from life?"

Shepard blinked a second time. "No one has asked me that before."

Liara shook her head, clenching a fist. "And that is why I cry. That no one cares enough to ask. That you never sought that answer. But _I _am asking, Sara. I want to know. What do you want from life, if all of it was laid before you?"

The answer spilled from her mouth before she even had time to analyze what she was saying. "Someone to spend it with and a cause worth fighting for." She paused, thinking several seconds, and then hesitantly nodded. "Yeah. Maybe something like that. Nothing simple. Something... big. Rage against the dying of the light, that sort of thing. Something... existential. Vital."

Liara nodded. "Why have you never pursued such?"

Shepard scowled. "Because I'm a Z2, a convicted criminal, annulled citizenship for another twenty-nine years. I can't own property, I can't vote, I can't even fucking quit the military. The next twenty years of my life and more are already decided for me. What's the point of it all? The SA won't let me quit and go off to have a fling." Bitterly, words spilled out. "And there's not much point in settling down, anyway. I'm barred from life, from ever going home. My entire family is dead. And I can't have children so I can't even start a family. Barren. Sterile. Useless. Not even a fucking woman."

Shepard turned back to the scotch, pouring another drink. "The last relationship I had got one thousand, six hundred and eleven people killed. Of the five people that I care most about in the world, I killed one, three more abandoned me, and the last one got dumped to a desk because I stole his command out from under him. I'll keep fighting until one day my number pops up and I catch a bullet in the wrong place, or, if God truly hates me, I survive my sentence and get shipped to some shitty tier one colony in the Traverse, in my fucking sixties. Worn out and half dead."

Liara's gaze faltered and traveled to the floor. "I suppose having a dream and knowing it will never come to pass is not as bad as never even being able to have a dream at all. I used to imagine I would be a successful archeologist, that I would discover why the Prothean extinction occurred, that I would be an influential part of a large university. Eventually I would get past my shyness with people , and continue the linage of my House. Now I am an outcast, the university has disowned me , my work is a laughingstock, and discovering the reason behind the Prothean extinction is a nightmare that makes me shiver in terror. It is easy to simply give up. Perhaps I already have given up."

Liara was silent several long seconds, before she took a very deep and shaky breath. "B-but I can still dream. Maybe a s-stupid dream, but a dream nonetheless." She smiled, nervously. "When I first met you, I knew very little about your species. At first, I was dismissive, as you humans seemed so rushed, so hurried in every action you did."

Shepard smiled. "I've heard that complaint before. Has your opinion changed, after being around us?"

Liara shrugged. "Yes, some. You are creatures of action, not deliberation. You move forward on all your goals with indomitable will and speed. Both humans and salarians have short life-spans, but salarians often lose focus in the details, while humans are single-minded in their determination. It is... often frightening, in the way humanity does not and will not accept limitations."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Humanity is scary?"

Liara looked flustered for a moment. "Yes, to some. But that is not... my point is that it is very easy to simply get caught up in the momentum of your will. You, Shepard, were not chosen because you are a better fighter, or a savage, to be a Spectre, but because you had the will to succeed no matter the odds. It is a trait I find fascinating. It compels... devotion, regardless of what you think. It makes you fascinating."

Shepard inhaled sharply, not even sure where Liara was going with her words. "I seem to remember a really awkward conversation we had about fascination and Prothean beacons, Doctor."

Liara shook her head. "And I remember making a fool of myself, but that is not what I mean. I admit at first my interest in you was for what you had experienced, but you also saved my life. You value my experience when no one else does, you listen to my ideas and trust me when no one else did and my own government wanted me arrested. You defied the Council to make sure I felt safe when my own family demanded I disown myself rather than support me." Liara shook her head, and her voice was unsteady. "I am never sure how people will react, as we discussed. And I do not know if what I feel is at all appropriate. But I do know my fascination with you, Sara, has nothing to do with Protheans, and everything to do with… just who you are. The good and the b-bad, the ugly, and n-nothing can change that. Or change the f-fact that... _I wish I could have you._"

Liara ended this sentence almost defiantly, then flinched back, as if expecting laughter or rejection. After a moment of complete silence, she hesitantly looked up, taking in the expression of shock and surprise on Shepard's beautiful features. "I-I am sorry, Shepard, that was inappropriate, I k-know but... I have felt that way for s-some time. I am no good with... expressing it. But I cannot simply sit here and watch you despise yourself and belittle yourself and… drown in despair, alone, thinking you are without anyone to care. I care."

Shepard was trying to make her brain work, with extremely little success. The simplest thing to do would be to say something joking, but the spike of terror and pain in her heart let Shepard know that playing this off as an awkward joke would hurt them both more than anything else. Liara was no Sandra, she had nothing to gain and everything to lose by admitting she was attracted, and clearly expected Shepard to shoot her down derisively. That much even Shepard could read in her wide, pain-shadowed eyes and rigid, tremblingly fearful posture.

Yet Shepard had not bothered to really pin down exactly how she felt. Sexual urges aside – and those were more of a matter of stress and needs rather than any real desires – Shepard found that she liked Liara. Something in her roused protective , angry defensive instincts Shepard had not felt towards anyone else. Liara was the one to try to cheer her up when the Council acted like morons. Liara was the one to sit and smoke with her when her nerves were shot. Liara was the one who was busting her butt to find solutions when everyone else was just assuming Shepard would fix everything.

And Liara had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. She hid from everyone, barely mingling, barely talking, clearly worried about saying the wrong thing. Shepard thought again about what she had just said – being rescued, being protected, being listened to – and wondered how much of what Liara felt was the same sort of blind, helpless gratitude Shepard herself felt for Anderson all those years ago.

And, God above, would having someone to actually love be so bad?

Shepard swallowed, and exhaled. "Okay, I... wasn't expecting that." Liara flinched again, opening her mouth, but Shepard held up a hand. "Just... give me a minute. I have to say something and I... I really, really don't want to fuck it up. Please."

Biting her lip, Shepard tried to clear her head before speaking. "I wasn't just talkin shit that day we were drinking in Flux, Liara. You're about the only person I have that I can actually talk to, be myself with, and not worry that you'll run the fuck away or judge me. You've... you're closer to me than anyone, and I do mean anyone, else. Period. You have seen parts of my life no one else knows about, you've felt what I've felt. That day you asked me how I didn't just destroy everything and everyone around me, I felt the whole goddamned world lurch, because someone finally _fucking understood._"

Shepard shook her head. "You'll **never** understand how important that is to me. The truth is you're beautiful, you're intelligent, you're driven, and you're strong. For me to say you weren't attractive to me would be a lie of the highest caliber. I'm no good at... romance. I can't even figure out half of what I feel, most of the time. Am I interested? Yes."

Shepard had never seen a smile as brilliant, as beautiful and simple, as the expression on Liara's face. It literally felt as if a giant dagger was jammed into her heart, the pain lanced through her entire body for a moment. Shepard couldn't bring herself to destroy something that joyous. And yet she knew if she didn't, Liara would get hurt by being with her.

Biting her lip again, Shepard sighed. "But at the same time, Liara... being with me is going to hurt you. It's going to... mess you up. There are... problems with me. Things I haven't talked about with anyone. Issues. That's leaving aside the fact that we're both on a mission –"

Liara's smile didn't waver in the slightest. "I understand that, Shepard. I... like you, have no good way of saying what I feel. Everything comes out stilted, or bland. Infatuation, hero worship, lust, friendship, loneliness and a mix of just wanting to belong to someone and wishing that I was important. I do not know how or what will happen, but I know how I feel about you. I may not be able to act on it.. I may not be able to... demonstrate it. But we have a connection. I can feel it, ever so slightly, all the time."

Shepard sighed. "I can't deny that. I've felt it too. It's... it's why I sent you back to the ship, I imagined you being killed by that fucking plant and nearly went into hysterics. I can't be rational about this, or impartial, and that could get someone killed, Liara. It's not that I… like you said. Infatuation, lust, loneliness and fear. But I –"

Liara closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "Maybe it would have been better if I kept pretending that you merely liked making jokes about my attractiveness, and that you could keep pretending I was just into hero worship. But that is neither truthful… nor helpful. Sara, you need someone you can… depend on. Your nightmares almost broke you last time, and I doubt they are gone for good...or that they will ever stop." Shepard looked up, sharply, and Liara gave a sad smile. "I am going to have to be a part of your life for a long time anyway, and no matter how well I wall things off, repeatedly doing a joining of memories is going to end up drawing us closer together over time."

Liara sighed. "As to it not being 'good for me', Shepard, I do not even know how to reply to that. The only thing I had close to a relationship before ended so badly that I wanted to die. I have very little left to live for at this point. And I have a very, very long life to look forward to, facing it filled with empty regrets is not something I am willing to endure. I know you must have problems and issues, no one who went through the horror you endured would be without such. I simply do not _care_ about the cost to me...because you are the last thing I have left to hold on to. I might as well die otherwise. I cannot simply ignore that out of fear that I may get hurt."

Shepard stood. "You should. I'm not good for anyone. I drove my own friends away –"

Liara snorted, sounding almost exactly like Shepard as she did so. "Your friends, if they can call themselves that, _abandoned you. _They did not give you a chance to redeem yourself, or fix the damage, or even explore your feelings. Yes, I am sure whatever you did was horrible, but it was not a situation of your own making. I saw. I felt your horror at Torfan. I still hear that horrible beeping and the sobbing of the batarian children. They should have been by your side and they were not and for that _they cannot be forgiven." _

Liara's expression was angry, her fist clenched. "I am not about to let you throw your life away because of their selfish and short-sighted temper tantrum. I care about you. I will follow where you lead, even if it costs me my life, because you saved my life. I will trust you without asking why because you trusted ME without asking why."

Liara met Shepard's gaze evenly, openly. "That night when we first joined and the Vision nearly killed me, you saved me with the _viala. _That technique joins the souls, it is the most binding, most dangerous and most difficult of the techniques the asari people have. It simply_ will not work _unless the persons involved are a part of each other. You saved me with it, and that is how I knew I was yours." Liara's voice was calm, but underlain with something like joy.

Shepard thought back to the time she'd learned it, of the words of the strike mistress who had taught it to her. Shepard had always despised the softer emotions , especially back then , and yet the only thing she could remember of the night she'd saved Liara was the insane fear she had of Liara dying. Shepard gave a weak shrug. "I... don't know. There's a lot... to think about. It's not that… fuck. It's not that I don't... want to. But that I'm worried what will happen if something goes wrong."

Liara sighed. "Do you not think this crossed my mind? I was not even entirely sure that you were interested at all. This is not me asking to rent a hotel room and..." she blushed, trailing off, then shaking her head. "I _care. _You mean something to me. You are something I can aspire to. You make me more than I am. I have to help take care of you, to... keep you going. I want... I want to be part of your life , to have a meaning. To be _wanted." _The little asari's voice sounded so empty and heartbroken that Shepard immediately turned and sat at the table, grabbing her hand.

"Liara, you have that already. Not that the hotel room is a bad idea." She tried for the joke, and was gratified at Liara blushing again but smiling. "But when I say I have to... think about it, I have to think about everything that's involved. I have to... admit some things, things you need to know before you decide this is really a good idea." She sighed. "And if word of it gets out, people are going to completely freak the fuck out."

Liara nodded, exhaling shakily. "I'm... listening."

O-SaBC-O

Half an hour later, Liara didn't know what to feel.

Listening to Shepard detail her bizarre sexual urges was a mix of confusing, upsetting, worrisome and—most disturbing of all—arousing. For Liara, like most asari, the very concept 'sexuality' as other species saw it was misleading. Joining of nervous systems and stimulation of pressure points and erogenous tissue was completely different than every other known form of life, which involved penetration organs. Asari could certainly do that, and over the past thousand years many, many asari had undergone the simple cloning operations to line the birth canal opening with cloned tissue from the erogenous zones along their spine, ensuring that such penetrative acts were actually enjoyable.

But other species – particularly humans, with their odd religious views – always made sex more than it should have been. The sharing of memories, of emotions, of souls was more intimate to asari than the insertion of body parts. Knowing how another thought, or their innermost emotions, was the intimacy. An asari's body was just that – a receptacle for pleasures of the flesh, for enjoyment. As long as the Bond was only between two, that was fidelity.

Shepard needing someone who was devoted to her and her alone was not hard to accomplish – Liara wasn't even remotely interested in anyone else. But the clear feeling she got from Shepard was that she was ashamed of her own sexual desires, as if they were evil, or somehow wrong. It was just the body, and Liara simply didn't see what was so bad about it.

Shepard's issues were with control, with domination, with being able to basically inflict on others a sample of what was inflicted on her in some ways. Being dominated by someone like Shepard was hardly going to be a problem, but Liara was not sure about the parts regarding physical pain. Shepard's idea of domination , however, also included in many ways mental domination, and that tread very close to the concept of certain asari tendencies that were considered taboo.

Worse, Shepard had told her about exactly what had gone down with her last lover, who had been an SA plant designed to sabotage Torfan for political motives. Shepard was – with good reason – paranoid of romantic involvements. The idea of baring one's soul, so openly, so completely, to another person—

to have them know every way she had been shamed and violated—was also a big issue with Shepard, and a potential barrier to true intimacy.

It didn't really help for them to both admit that it had been an _extremely _long time since Shepard had last had sex, and that Liara had never been able to relieve such stresses with another, so hormones and urges and stress were also driving factors.

Liara was shaken to her core by the revelation that Shepard didn't know about the significance of the _viala. _She was hardly a priestess of Athame, but from what she understood it shouldn't even have worked, much less so well. She was not one for goofy religious mantras, but she knew that there must be some significance to the _viala _working between them. Maybe it was just due to the heavy joining of memories they had done, or a side effect of the Beacon... or maybe, just maybe, Liara and Shepard were fated for each other. Shepard didn't really care for that idea, playing it off with jokes about 'but what if I end up liking turian women better' , but Liara found it comforting.

Finally , Liara knew, sooner or later, that repeatedly having to join memories with Shepard would make it harder and harder not to push to a full meld, but most asari experimented with melds heavily in their early years. Liara hadn't. She had no clue how strong the resulting bond would be, and how much pain or pleasure or anything else would factor into what would be the outcome. It was better to be logical and reasonable about this, but a tiny part of her still wished Shepard would have just picked her up, kissed her and flung her on the bed.

Still, she got what Shepard was saying. They were adults , and they needed to get more comfortable with each other instead of just tossing caution to the wind. Shepard's rueful admission that she found Liara _extremely _attractive had made the asari feel much better about herself, although she had no foolish ideas that she looked anywhere as good as Shepard did.

Shepard had asked for a few minutes alone to get her emotions sorted out, and had left the room. Liara , with little else to do – the lab was being worked on and her mind too muddled to research – simply decided to try to relax, laying out on Shepard's couch. Despite her racing mind and emotions, she'd fallen asleep in only a few minutes, tired. She dreamed quietly, of sitting across a vast, wide Prothean ruin, teaching the Prothean runic alphabet to a tiny asari girl she knew was her daughter, Shepard in the background drop kicking slavers and turians for some reason.

She awoke, starting a bit as she realized she was on Shepard's bed now, not the couch. The digital clock display read the time as 2 AM. Liara glanced around, noticing she was still fully clothed but someone – Shepard, probably – had slipped off her shoes and covered her with a light, SA-issue blanket. She moved the rough material to once side, sitting up blearily.

The commander herself was now laid out on the couch, a hand draped over her eyes. She'd shed the BDU jacket , and was wearing only a tightly fitted t-shirt and shorts, revealing her curves and cocoa skin. Liara blinked, pushing down a surge of lust, and carefully got up from the bed. She supposed Sara had moved her to the bed to be more comfortable, and then had fallen asleep herself, and decided to wake her up and see if she wanted to talk more. But as she approached the woman, she stopped.

Shepard was whimpering in her sleep, muscles tense. Liara gently shook her, trying to awake her, and then cursed softly – the nightmares had already returned. Using her biotics to fortify her strength, she lifted Shepard up carefully, carrying the larger, heavier woman back to her bed, trying not to react to her soft warmth, wincing as Shepard's voice mumbled something about blood.

Laying her down carefully, Liara lay down next to her, wrapping her arms around her closely and closing her eyes. She'd never tried to meld memories with a sleeping person before, but it should be possible...

With a focus, she opened her eyes, sclera black with effort, and entered into hell.

O-OSaBC-O

Liara stood on a cliff of black, shattered rock, bloodstained bones and fragments of bodies strewn everywhere. The sky was blasted, toxic black clouds against a sickeningly tainted greenish sky, a single huge moon scarred by the black lines of civilization hanging very low in the sky. She was overlooking a cityscape, a tattered half-image of the caricatures of gleaming towers jutting miles into the sky, impossibly wealthy looking and far away, and a low burg of broken, burning buildings, cheap brick and rusting iron. The roads were broken and full of debris, bodies, and old vehicles, rats and worse scurrying from shadow to shadow.

Trash, bones, and chunks of blooded… meat… were strewn about in all directions. The streets were crowded with leering, savage beasts, some obscene mixture of Protheans, Reapers, and Batarians, with engorged sex organs and large, hooked, cruel swords. They surrounded a tiny human girl, all huge eyes and dark hair, tied by her wrists to a pole, hung suspended in air. At their head was a thing like a cross between a krogan and a snake, topped with horns and the face of Saren.

The being was slashing at Shepard with a whip, and each time he did so, Shepard screamed. In the crowd were jeering, distorted images of people – Beatrice, Anderson, the Citadel Council, the Fleet Master, other humans Liara didn't recognize. The savage crowd around the pole was throwing things at Shepard as well, knives and darts, pictures of dead soldiers.

At Shepard's feet were a mass of broken, deformed humans in shattered armor, screaming that she'd betrayed them to die and that she was a filthy criminal. Liara couldn't even filter the rest of the scene, images were flickering in and out , a distorted booming voice screaming out that the Reapers were coming, smells twisting together in unrecognizable and sickening configurations.

Liara acted, leaping down to the area of the pole, imagining herself pulsing out a fiery shockwave of force that would consume everything it struck, and pushing that sensation at Shepard. The shockwave manifested, incinerating the screaming, jeering monsters in blue, purifying fire, smashing into the city beyond , sending the crumbling buildings down in clouds of choking, black and evil smoke. She turned to the battered child tied to the pole, and lifted her up, gently, carefully, saying "I need you. Please wake up, I need you."

A moment later, Liara opened her eyes, head pounding with pain. She still held Shepard loosely, but both were soaked with sweat and Liara at least felt utterly and completely drained. She felt the tension slacken in Shepard's form and then the woman awoke, shivering for a moment before starting and realizing she was being held. "L-liara?" The voice was only half-awake, slurred and frightened.

Liara pitched her voice low. "Another nightmare, Shepard. I stopped it. Go to sleep. I'm here." She wrapped herself more tightly around the human, reveling in the contact, and smiled until she felt her face would split when Shepard simply snuggled against her and closed her eyes , drifting back into sleep.

Liara held her for the rest of the night, but for once Shepard slept soundly and securely, and Liara eventually drifted off herself, for once without regrets.


	69. Chapter 60: Normandy, Moments V

**A/N: **I've been busy – will work faster. Moar Shepard fluffage. A peek inside her mind as it were.

* * *

Shepard awoke, blinking her eyes free of sleep and stiffened as she realized someone was in bed with her. Carefully moving, she relaxed only fractionally when she realized she was fully clothed and the arm across her waist was that of Liara, the blue tone of her skin mottled with shadows from the window.

Shepard exhaled, slipping free and sliding off of the bed. The asari woman made a soft noise in her sleep and curled slightly, her features peaceful and even. For a moment, Shepard was struck by the asari's beauty, an unfamiliar, calm smile creeping across her features. Then she gave a soft sigh, and carefully draped the rough SA blanket that was all she had left of her time with the Penal Legions over Liara, pinching the bridge of her nose as she finished. Shepard padded across the room, tossing a glance at the door to make sure it was still locked, and checked the multifunction panel on her computer.

The Normandy remained mostly deserted. Two crewmen had come back, both in sleeper pods, as well as Tali'Zorah. The system indicated the quarian was in engineering. She paged through the displays, seeing that work was scheduled to begin on the hull at 1 PM the next day, and nodded to herself thoughtfully. Setting up a message to the crew about the airlock being out of commission the next morning so Tali could put on her new armor, she finished transmitting it and then turned to pull open one of the bottles of scotch on the table.

When she'd taken over Anderson's cabin, she'd seen that the Captain must have already cleaned out his quarters while she was at the Spectre HQ. Besides a spare datapad and a code book with high level SA codes for the commanding officer, all he'd left behind was his booze. At first, she'd thought there had just been the one bottle, but the closet in the corner had almost two dozen. There were regulations about drinking on duty – fairly severe ones – but the reality of the situation is that no one monitored the captain of the ship, and Anderson's frosty, professional demeanor was intimidating enough that no one would have dared questioned him. She was just surprised she'd never realized how much he drank, how hard his position must have been...and after finding out about him being dismissed as a Spectre candidate, how heavily a failure must have weighed on him.

The downside of such a stash was that it encouraged Shepard to drink her problems away. She smiled to herself, quietly pouring another glass, pondering the situation.

_What the fuck were you thinking? You've liked looking at asari for years, but the first one you decide to have a damned relationship with is a frightened kid under your command?_

Downing the amber liquid, she closed her eyes as it burned its way into her stomach. The situation was bad enough. Saren had vanished into thin air, with zero leads as to his next targets. Her only choices were to assault Cerberus or the geth for leads, both of which were fraught with danger. She was still down marines, and her BDO was possibly unreliable or about to be dismissed, depending on what his medical examination revealed.

Her frustrating interview with the Council had not gone well at all. While they acknowledged that the large black ship Saren commanded was likely related to the ships that obliterated the Inusannon and the Protheans, they simply didn't believe that such a thing happened on a fifty thousand year cycle. Their plan was to eliminate Saren, which would stop the problem before it started – regardless of the situation.

And with all of this, instead of thinking of the mission, the coming hunt for Cerberus, she found herself distracted by Liara.

Drinking again, she sighed. The problem wasn't fraternization – given how Shepard liked to do things, engaging in any kind of sexual activity on the ship itself was tantamount to holding a press conference stating she was banging an asari teen and oh, by the way, all those rape allegations weren't that far off the mark. Venting on Liara in that manner – while dreadfully abusive of Liara's own infatuated respect and desire for her – was not what worried Shepard. If things ever got that far, some tact and caution would be needed, but that was not too upsetting.

Nor was she worried about being put in a situation like Torfan again. Liara had fought against Benezia, without a single hesitation – her own mother. Liara was an open person, and had nowhere else to go, was admittedly a virgin with zero relationships, outcast by her family, hunted by her government, distrusted by the Citadel authorities, and had zero marketable skills aside from archeology, where no doubt her detractors in the asari university circles would ruin her.

Shepard _was_ worried if it would work, or if she was too messed up to actually be in a relationship. Part of her wasn't certain going ahead with this was a good idea, but it had nothing to do with not wanting Liara. She was beautiful, interesting, strong-willed, tough and surprisingly upbeat for someone whose life had been nothing but failures. Shepard wasn't hesitant because of Liara, more the fact that Shepard had zero idea how to proceed with going from 'Hey, we like each other' to the next step. It wasn't that Shepard wanted to be alone. She'd seen some time ago that without people to stabilize her, she'd end up in very bad places.

Shepard didn't fully understand Liara's attraction to her, either. She'd seen misguided hero worship before, from the kind of hard-asses that inevitably populate the human military. The type of people who thought the best alien was a dead alien, and that there wasn't much point in trying criminals and slavers. Or in starry eyed recruits full of SA propaganda and wild rumors about her abilities and background.

Liara didn't fit that mold. She seemed to honestly think that Shepard's calls were good and that Shepard was worth the effort it took to reach out, despite having seen how empty she was inside. Maybe Liara didn't feel she was empty. Maybe Liara felt she could repair some of that damage, or maybe Liara thought that she owed Shepard something. But Shepard didn't believe she could be 'fixed' and wasn't certain she _wanted _to be. Could she still live with the person she was if the damage was pasted away under emotions and family responsibilities?

She drained the glass, pouring more scotch a few seconds later, feeling the curling warmth nestle in her stomach. Liara's reasoning as to why they were good for each other was on point. Shepard's own mind was irrevocably fucked up, thanks to the beacon, and it didn't look as if she'd last very long without Liara's help. The nightmares reduced her into a nervous wreck, unable to sleep at all and making bad, anger-based judgments that got people killed. Turning away that help was not just suicidal but would cause the mission to fail. And, truth be told, every time they melded memories, even though Liara was getting better at not getting anything mixed up like that disastrous first time, the unnerving sense of … awareness grew. It was like a cool weight at the back of her neck.

But Liara was understating the risks as well. Never mind Shepard might kill her during sex, or that she was basically setting herself up for long-term abuse just to get Shepard's engine going. Never mind that she was a maiden, barely out of childhood by asari standards, and that melds – especially deep, repeated melds – were something that most asari didn't try until the matron stage. Never mind that being linked to a goddamned maniac wasn't going to make Liara any more stable. Never mind that Shepard's future was a complete unknown – how the SA would react negatively to her banging someone on her crew.

Never mind the fact that they had been eyeing each other up since that day on Therum and that this was half driven by the fact that they were both lonely, anti-social wrecks under too much stress, and three months down the line they might feel completely different.

No, what made Shepard the most nervous was the ugly truth that Liara was basically setting the entire burden of her life onto Shepard's shoulders. She had to learn to love, when all her life had been about driving, pure hate. She had to try to understand an alien, someone who was even further out of her frame of reference. . She had to try and tamp down her fury and self-despair and support Liara and that was something she'd never gotten down – or had any chance to engage in.

Shepard wanted to try. She was sick of fighting for nothing, and Liara's blasted expression when she'd heard Shepard had no real goals in life was a wake-up call. She _wanted _to be able to have someone to care for. To fight for. To wake up and realize you could depend on. But she was terrified of fucking it up, of just ending up using Liara, taking advantage of her body, of her willingness to support, of her ability to listen and let Shepard vent, and not being able offer anything in return.

Badly rambling half-assed statements that Liara meant a lot? A mind full of nightmares and memories that no one should have to see? A life tied to a criminal, spent on whatever garbage assignments the SA decided to throw at her? Shepard had no money, nowhere to live, aside from her command vessels, and no real education outside of what she'd learned on her own. . She had no real interests, aside from tinkering with guns and models, and she had no real sense of how to live a life that wasn't directed by her superiors. .

Maybe that was the point, to try to figure out how to live, to find those interests and things to have investments in. To just turn her back on how bad shit had gone down for her all her life and take a wild gamble on something new and not full of pain. But moving on when you had no idea how to do it was a lot harder than just saying "go".

She sighed, swirling the drink in her glass before downing it. It didn't really help that in talking with Liara earlier, the whole thing with the _viala _had been pretty weird. There were some creepy, spooky overtones of what Liara had told her aboutits requirements. If the _viala _only worked on someone you were destined for, then Liara and Shepard would work out.

But if destiny really existed, did that mean she was _supposed _to suffer the way she had? Years of rape and abuse? Years of being a murderous, evil, thug? Having parents who sold her into sex slavery and a cousin who used her as a hit man? Being a glorified assassin and enforcer for the SA before nearly being discarded like the trash they'd plucked her from?

It was a disquieting, upsetting possibility for Shepard, who usually didn't give much thought to philosophy other than that of Machiavelli. Red Dog of the 10th Street Reds had given her a battered, paperback copy of the Prince to read, and she had taken much of it to heart as her personal credo. Better to be feared than loved, to be hated and dangerous than respected but held to be accessible. Destiny, fate – these things existed in the worlds of people who let random chance decide their outcomes.

All her life, Shepard had told herself she'd been dealt a bad hand and did the best with it she could. Did fate put her through this to make her who she needed to be? If Shepard had been a normal, well-adjusted person, would she have ever come across Liara, or be open to a relationship with her? Or was it truly just random chance, and this was nothing but another failure in the making?

Shepard refilled her glass again, casting her eyes over the sleeping asari once more. She didn't want to hurt Liara, and yet she wanted to be proven wrong, that she could have something worth holding on to, someone to listen and soothe. Someone to fight for, to want to improve for. And after a life spent killing any and everything that could die, facing impossible odds and having the fate of millions flung onto her shoulders, Shepard found the idea of fucking up with Liara the most terrifying thing she'd ever had to deal with.

_You may have one good thing in your life. Take a chance on fucking it up, or try not to and drive her away? Fuck!_

She exhaled, swallowing, and put her glass down. "If I'm going to do it, it's just like... a mission. I won't fail. I can't fail." Her eyes drifted over to Liara again, who was still asleep, and felt that same helpless, stupid smile come over her face.

She glanced away, as the multifunction panel beeped softly. Shepard frowned – why was Tali using the ships venting system at this time of night? She rose smoothly, leaving her glass behind. Maybe a walk would clear her head.

O-OSaBC-O

Tali'Zorah bit her lip behind her mask, ever so carefully aligning the delicate tracery of eezo circuitry along the narrow bands of the chipset she was working on. Her omni-tool glowed, projecting steadying bands of force as well as a magnification overlay, as the quarian connected the small lumps of eezo to each side of the long pieces of metal that lay on the table in front of her.

The engineering bay was deserted, the massive Tantalus core glowing sullenly with muted blue light, casting half shadows across the bay. The narrow strip of engineering control consoles stood empty, like abandoned sentry posts, and only the table at which Tali labored had a light on over it. The utter, eerie silence of the ship ate at her nerves. She remembered having to board a ship with a failed life support system, the silence there had not been as total as the Normandy in dock.

She exhaled as she finished the linkage, standing up from her half-crouch to critically examine her work, then with a satisfied nod, tapped on her omnitool to activate a fusion torch. Aligning the braces ends with the support belt at one end of the table, she welded, the hot-white sparks of melted metal throwing leaping shadows on the wall. Thick clouds of vaporized metal puffed away here and there, sucked away by vent fans overhead, the only noise to be heard.

She finished one set of welds, and stood, then recoiled in fright as something unfolded from the shadows with terrifying grace and silence. It was only a moment later she realized it was Shepard, dressed in camo-pattern BDU pants and a t-shirt, stepping around the corner. "Tali?"

The quarian girl nodded, cutting off her omni-tool. "Yes, Commander?"

Shepard glanced around, at the darkened, shutdown engineering space, then at the table. "Sorry, I got an alert that the ventilation system had been engaged... I came to check it out. What is this?" She gestured with a hand at the several pieces of finely crafted metal, curved and hinged, and the sprawling stack of data pads at the base of the table. "Some kind of repair job?"

Tali shook her head. "N-no. I... I was working on something for Jeff. I mean, Joker. I-I mean, Lieutenant Moreau. A set of eezo-powered leg braces, to reduce the weight he has to support to get around the ship. So he can move...without being in pain, all t-the time."

Shepard arched a single eyebrow. "That sounds...expensive. Humans of his size weigh about 140 to 180 pounds... that's like, what, three ounces of eezo? Run you a good stack of credits." Her voice was cool, almost without emotion, but her stance was… Tali couldn't quite figure it. Uneasy. Worried. Relaxed and yet defensive. She was breathing faster than normal and there was a sort of nervous energy about her.

Tali folded her arms and shrugged. "I do have my own money, Commander. From what the Shadow Broker paid me. I didn't take anything from ship stores –"

Shepard held up a hand. "Sorry. Didn't mean to imply that. And if you did need something from ship's stores, you are part of my crew, and that's what it's there for." She paused, glancing around. "It's just... I thought Joker had crutches. I know it's not exactly easy for him to get around, but this... "

Tali winced, and shook her head. "Crutches that hurt him just to use them. He's described it to me...pain every time he tries to move, or walk to his bunk. Just the stress causes additional fractures." There was a wounded note in the quarian's exotic voice, and Shepard rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

Tali continued, a bit hesitantly. "I don't get humans sometimes. In the Fleet, a pilot with that kind of talent would be feted, someone probably would have custom-built him an eezo powered chair or something. In your fleet, he's … people make fun of him or ignore him. I have a hard time understanding how your people reward skill."

Shepard's lips faintly curved. "The Systems Alliance has never claimed to be a meritocracy, sadly. I'd say I'm more skilled and more experienced than a lot of captains and majors, but I was stuck as a Lieutenant Commander a long time and only promoted to Commander after Torfan because of the award I got. It's more about who you know and … playing a bunch of social games I could never figure out. Joker's problem is he knows he's good and thinks he should get a pass on his attitude or relationships with people because of it. And he is good – probably the best pilot in the fleet, maybe in human history."

Shepard turned back to gaze at the braces. "But he wouldn't have been if he had not been ostracized. If he had not been pushed, and tormented, and driven to excel, he'd have been a good – but not great – pilot. It's just the way we seem to work. Sometimes, what makes us... unhappy is what also drives us to try to succeed."

Tali shook her head. "It seems very cruel. And I have to wonder if it turns out all that well. He is driven by his disability, and he's achieved things no one else has, but wouldn't he be happier without it all? I mean, if he didn't have Vrolik's Syndrome, and could walk normally...is that kind of pain worth what he's achieved?"

Shepard shrugged. "I've asked myself that question. I doubt I'd be what I was today if I was... normal. And every time I... try to move away from that I question if it's the right move."

Tali tilted her head. "To be normal? I don't think Joker will ever be normal in the way a person born without his disease would be. I can't make him normal. But I can make sure he can do the things a normal person can do without being in pain for doing them. That's not changing who he is, just...how he does things."

Shepard thought on this for a very long moment, going utterly still, before a brilliant smile crossed her face, lighting up her eyes. The tension and worry in her posture melted away, and Shepard actually relaxed. Tali had never seen such an expression on the commander's face, but before she could say anything Shepard gave a little laugh and shook her head. "Damn, I am so stupid sometimes...you make a very good point, Tali. You just helped me with something I've been... wrestling with all night. Thanks. If you need anything else for your rig for Joker –"

Tali shook her head. "I'm about done, actually. The hard part was making a sensor net that would link into a quick sensor net, so the braces can help balance him properly when he moves. All I need to do is finish hooking things up and put a casing on some pieces... and I'm sure you didn't come down here to check out engineering or listen to me ramble..."

Shepard shook her head. "No, I _was_ looking for you, just not expecting to find you needing the vent system or to find you welding. The VI said you'd gone ashore and then came back a few hours ago. I wanted to tell you a couple of things. First, that I've put out a notice that the airlock is off limits from 9 to 11 AM tomorrow. I've set the full bio-hazard decon cycle to run non-stop for three hours prior to that, so you can have a secure place to change your suit."

Tali nodded. She'd been more than astonished to find the order of armor sent to the Normandy had included a full quarian-model envirosuit, armored up to Colossus standards. Shepard explained that Kassa Fabrication had done a job for some quarian exile a few years back and retained the specs. Tali had spent a full day checking it out – the quality was very good, almost as good as something the Flotilla itself would have produced. She had to do some extra work on the filters and seals, but the humans had introduced a few features the quarians had not thought of, like a pureeing unit with UV filtering right in the backpack, to allow her to consume food not already prepped in a food tube.

With no real clean room on the Normandy, though, changing into a new suit was fraught with danger. The space she changed in would have to be utterly, completely sterile. Shepard had already attended to that, having set aside the airlock for her to use, as well as having the air filters upgraded and the nozzles that restored atmosphere in the airlock sterilized and sealed behind DETA filter mesh.

"I'll … get ready, then, in the morning. Thanks, Shepard." She didn't know what else to say – the armor had to have cost a fortune, but Shepard only shrugged.

"No problem... so...this brace thing you've made, it will help him get around better?"

Tali nodded, turning back to the table. "Yes. It should help lessen his weight while giving his legs more strength and moving assistance over long distances. I had to build it as narrow as possible to make sure he could fit into a survival suit. It's battery powered, but it has a trickle-motion charger built into the joints so just walking around will help recharge it." Tali forced herself to stop talking, clued in by the smile on Shepard's face.

"Sounds like you spent a small fortune on this, Tali. I'm sure he'll be appreciative. A word of advice, though. I'm not much of a … people person, but I can make a guess that he has his pride about his disability. He could have applied for less stressful positions and could have taken a less aggressive course towards being the pilot he is today. He chose not to do so. I don't think he wants pity."

Tali shook her head, spreading her hands in a frustrated gesture. "I don't pity him at all. I think he's wonderful. I-I mean, how do you stay upbeat and not be borne down by not being able to even walk? I just wanted... he put himself through a lot of pain to help me out on the Citadel, doing some shopping, and I wanted to pay him back. You...you think he will be upset at what I made?"

Shepard shook her head, then ran her hand through her hair, pinching the bridge of her nose a moment later. "No, Tali, I don't. I think he'll be a bit confused and maybe unsure why you'd go to all the trouble for such a thing. But not upset."

Shepard glanced at the empty, dark engineering spaces again, shrugging lightly. "Also, I got a message earlier, but you weren't on board. The Migrant Fleet sent you a comm. I've had some feedback that the SA has been less than fucking stellar about routing message traffic to the Normandy for the non-human crew members, so I unloaded on High Command about that fact. The comms room on the CIC deck is set up to receive the call."

Tail nodded, and swallowed. "I...I will go as soon as I finish up here, Commander." The human woman nodded and departed, leaving Tali worrying about the message she'd received.

Twenty minutes later, she was nervously standing in the comm room, at the link panel. Triggering the message, she saw it was from her father. . The video popped up on the main view screen, crystal clear.

Admiral Rael'Zorah was an imposingly tall quarian, broad through the chest, with powerful shoulders and standing well over six and a half feet tall. His suit was of the highest quality, flat black armor panels edged almost sullenly here and there with Zorah purple and the white sash of the Admiralty snug around his waist. His voice was its usual basso rumble, never satisfied, always disapproving.

"Tali, I've had a formal apology from an admiral in the Systems Alliance fleet today, informing me that the four messages I sent prior had been, as he put it, 'mislaid'. I'm not sure if that's double-speak or something more sinister, so the SA has been given a copy of this current message."

"I have not been informed of your whereabouts or health since your message to me upon departing the Citadel in pursuit of this Saren criminal, and I am very worried. Contact me at your earliest possible opportunity. I expect a reply within four solar days, or a very good explanation of why one has not been sent. Rael'Zorah out."

Tali sighed, then turned to the unfamiliar comms control panel. After a bit of translation with her omni-tool, she had an overlay of the controls in quarian, and a fair understanding of how they worked. Using the lowest priority signal channel that still allowed real time comms, she engaged a transmission and waited patiently.

A few minutes later, the screen blanked, replaced by the quarian glyph for 'hesitance' – literally, please hold. Seconds after that, a quarian in a silver and grey suit filled the screen. "Admiralty Security, who is – oh, Tali'Zorah." The quarian immediately touched a control on his panel, and the signal blanked again, momentarily, before coming up a second time, this time revealing her father.

"Father? It's Tali."

Rael'Zorah was clearly in his quarters, the four-panel wall hanging her mother had done visible in the background. He half turned, facing his private comm, then gestured to someone off screen. "Good, I was wondering if the humans had 'mislaid' you as well, Tali."

Tali shook her head. "No, father. There's been a great deal of confusion, and the ship took some significant damage. We're currently docked at the Citadel. I'm fine, although we haven't been on any more missions against the geth yet."

Rael'Zorah's glowing eyes narrowed. "The news agencies are being extremely tight-lipped about exactly what is happening with this mission you are on, Tali. We've all heard of the fight at Feros, where the Citadel Fleet got destroyed by that massive ship. Other than that, only rumors."

Tali carefully framed her words, not wanting to alarm her father but not wanting him to order her back to the Fleet, either. "The ship was on a research mission, trying to find more information about the black ship. Based on some ruins we found, something like it was not only responsible for the Prothean extinction, but possibly older races as well, like the Inusannon."

Rael merely nodded. "Interesting, if troubling. Where are you going next?"

Tali shrugged. "Shepard .. has plans to cripple Saren. I'm not sure what she plans, but I'm pretty sure at some point, we'll be going after the geth. She's made serious preparations for war, though. She's upgraded everyone's weapons and armor, even going so far as to commission me a suit of battle armor from Kassa Fabrications."

Rael sighed, folding his arms. "This is not exactly what I had in mind for your Pilgrimage, Tali. Running into pitched battles against Spectres, and cut off from all resources –"

She shrugged. "Tetrimus paid well for the information on Saren, father – I have plenty of resources, enough to buy a ship if I wanted." She didn't fail to notice the way he stiffened at the name, and a moment later he began to pace.

"Listen to me, daughter. I know you feel secure, but this is no game. Tetrimus is an _extremely _dangerous figure, far more dangerous than either this Saren clown or that Shepard lunatic. I don't care what justification he used, or what sort of lies he spun to the Council, the humans and Maker knows who else, but the Shadow Broker does not work _gratis, _ever. They expect something of value out of this, and once they have it they're just as likely to turn on you."

Tali did not interrupt, merely listened as her father continued. "I know you feel you have to do this, to atone for the fact that our people are responsible for the geth, who are now butchering others as they did to us during the Morning War. But you are not a soldier, Tali. When things go wrong, you are going to be in a great deal of danger, and there won't be a patrol of Migrant Fleet Marines around to help."

Tali held up a hand. "I'm seeing this through, father. Saren, and what he's planning, is a danger if he's working with the geth. You saw my report; they've made more progress in the past year than they had in the three centuries prior to that. If we don't have someone here, how will we ever know what is really going on?"

She paused. "Besides, Shepard is more careful than you would think. When we went into heavy ground combat, she sent me and the other non-military person, Dr. T'Soni, back up to the ship. She was really upset that she lost soldiers in that fight. She's not the blood-thirsty maniac people keep saying she is."

Rael shook his head. "People acquire unsavory reputations based on their actions, Tali. If you're really going to stick this out, there is little I can do to stop you without shaming the entire clan. But do not try to be a hero." He paused, before continuing in a softer voice. "Perhaps I have not said this enough, but you are immensely skilled, and will be an asset to the Fleet. I do not doubt your courage, or your abilities. But I do not trust these humans, and I certainly have my doubts in any endeavor where the Broker is involved."

Rael sourly spread his hands. "Keep us informed, and do not bring shame onto the Fleet. Return when you can, daughter. Keelah Se'lai."

Tali barely had time to say the same before the video link cut. She sighed dejectedly – once again her father thought her a stupid, willful girl in over her head. And perhaps, she admitted to herself as she left the comms room, with good reason. _Nearly being killed on Caleston, and then almost dying on the Citadel... the only reason I haven't gotten into trouble recently is I'm surrounded by soldiers. _

Tali sighed, heading back towards engineering to finish the work on Joker's braces.


	70. Chapter 61: Telanya, Defiant

_**A/N:**_

_So, a couple of bad things happened at work, and then I've been flying all over __the__ damned place, plus I've kicked off another story series, and had to wait for this chapter to get beta-read. But don't worry. OSABC is still not stopping any time soon._

_I've had to rework some chapters __–__I__ planned to get to fighting Cerberus sooner – but people seem to like the fluff, so here's __the__ last piece of it. Next, the fight against Cerberus begins, and leads that aid in tracking down the next phase of the plan of Saren and Sovereign. _

_Hopefully, __I__ can get another chapter out tomorrow, and one more by next week. _

* * *

Shepard's conversation with Tali, and the young quarian's expression that one didn't have to be normal to be able to enjoy normal things, had left her in a pensive, but upbeat mood. She returned to her quarters, the doors hissing shut behind her, to find Liara sitting up on the bed, rubbing her eyes.

The asari looked up as she entered, wide blue eyes worried. "Are you alright, Sara?"

Shepard shrugged. "An alert came up and I dealt with it. Last I remember I was dozing on the couch. When I woke up…" She gestured to the bed with a raised eyebrow, and Liara gave a weak shrug.

"You were having another nightmare. I helped, well... stop it... because you were clearly in distress." The asari glanced down, picking at the fabric of her university uniform, then glanced up hesitantly. "I did not mean to offend, but—"

Shepard sat down in the chair across from her, reaching for the scotch. She poured out half a glass, and then shrugged, sipping. "You didn't. It was just unexpected." She paused, sipping again. "It's funny. I've had nightmares most of my life. For a long time I was on sleeping pills, otherwise I couldn't get any sleep. After Torfan, they got worse. After the Beacon, they got... unbearable. You'd think I'd be used to it by now."

She gave a cool smile and shrugged. "You move past it. You can't let anyone see that you are weak or someone will take advantage. You can't let them see your pain. Your doubt. Your fear. You shove it down, and away, and square your shoulders and just keep going. You bury it under anger, bury under duty, bury it under regret. Eventually you're all used up inside, all the parts of you that matter gone, and the only thing remaining is red, bloody rage."

Shepard drank again, then set the glass aside, meeting Liara's gaze. "I have no damned idea of how the hell I'm going to handle this. I'll do my best, but I'm not much of a romantic. I just don't know how to go on anymore. The past few weeks have been..." Shepard paused, glancing away for a moment, then back to Liara. "...too much."

Liara winced at the empty, lost focus of Shepard's gaze, biting her lip nervously. She gave an awkward shrug. "I used to dream of such things, when I was even younger. Of adventure and strange places and discoveries at the side of someone strong and decisive, of being able to find my own path instead of the tired, worn out duties my mother wished me to undertake. Being on my own for fifty years has only given me loneliness and disappointment." She nervously smiled. "I do not think that your worries are unfounded. But I ..."

Liara trailed off, standing, glancing out of the porthole at the purple radiance and shifting clouds of the Widow Nebula, framing the Citadel. "I see the lights of the Citadel, and the people. I see the lovers and friends, the people so successful and happy with life. Everyone is… able to have the things that I am not. And that hurts, because I do not know what I have done that makes achieving that such an impossibility for me."

Liara turned to face Shepard. "But what you and I have is not something I understand. I feel a pull towards you. To help and to follow, to see and understand you." She took a step forward. "No one tries because they fear you, but I never have. From the moment you saved me on Therum, you have always been open with me."

Shepard shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "Yeah, and you're about the only person I can seem to just talk to. But how much of that is 'destiny' and how much is 'we got inside each other's heads'? I'm not saying I don't feel it. I do. But I don't have much to offer." The last came out almost flat, as if she expected Liara to turn away.

Liara shrugged, and smiled. "Does it matter? You are exhausted, alone, abandoned, with a burden that no one can carry alone. I have been cast out and my future is shattered and ruined. You worry you will hurt me? Bruise me?" The asari's voice was amused, but also had a touch of a tremble to it.

Shepard shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I worry that I'll mess something up and cause you emotional pain. Or, fuck, I don't know. I'm not saying I—"

The asari took another step forward and quietly knelt at Shepard's feet. "Do you think I care? I – we – have nothing. I do not care if I am hurt, or if there is pain, or if there is suffering. All I know is that I want to be... here. Perhaps that is silly. Perhaps it's immature."

Hesitantly, Liara traced her fingers over Shepard's hands, feeling the scars and the strength, the trembling and the worry. "But my mother once said life is nothing but the pursuit of the wants we have, tempered by dealing with needs."

Shepard frowned, and pulled Liara up. They stood face to face, inches apart. She could smell Liara, the subtle hint of perfume, and felt the tremble in the asari's shoulders as she pulled her up. For a long moment she was still, and then she thought again on Tali's words. The soft inviting gleam of those lips, the tremor and anxiety in her own hands – suddenly the cabin seemed too small, too hot, too closed in, and there was just Liara.

_Normal things._

She exhaled, then pushed Liara back, up against the bulkhead, kissing her fiercely, letting her body tense up. For a few, brief moments, Shepard just stopped caring, and let herself fall into the emotions and feelings, the swirl completely confusing and unknown.

But cleaner, better, than empty regret.

She broke the kiss a moment later, swallowing, and took half a step back, watching to see how Liara would react. The asari looked up at her curiously, eyes wide and nervous, breathing a bit quickly, but there was both hesitancy and hunger in her eyes. Shepard took another deep breath and backed away completely.

"I... that is, I have never been kissed. It was … nice." Liara's voice was almost amusingly cautious, and Shepard managed a thin, somewhat nervous smile, waiting, and then Liara shrugged, almost weakly. "I have no idea what we do now."

Shepard arched an eyebrow and glanced at the rather narrow bed, making the asari blush faintly, but immediately took up one of Liara's hands and pulled her close. "Listen, Marazul. I have no idea either, and I'm not going to rush things. I am not going to let my own stupid shit fuck this up, I swear. We'll go slow. We'll... just enjoy things. We'll... find something normal in all of this mess and move on" Shepard paused, glancing away, out the window to the Citadel, then back into those blue eyes. "I know what I feel, no matter confusing or unusual it is. I can't explain it and maybe I don't need to."

She let Liara's hand fall, turning away, mouth set grimly. "I'm not a good person. I'm never sure if I'm doing what's right or what just happens to come to mind. I don't know , and maybe I can't know, what drives normal people to the things they do. I never found that kind of answer in my own life." Black hair slid down as she bent her head, obscuring her features, and she gave a weary sigh.

"I used to think the answer was in anger, and in killing bad guys, and proving I was worth the effort. I wanted to please David. I wanted to prove I wasn't that drug-hazed thug, that I wasn't trash, that I mattered." She laughed, bitterly, making Liara flinch. The asari didn't know how to handle the sudden mood swing, and bit her lip nervously as Shepard continued. "I don't want you .. us .. to go into this blindly, Liara. I can't just pretend what I am can change in a way that's good for you. I don't want you pressured, I don't want you .. lost." She paused again, her voice dropping almost to a whisper.

"For years, I let that anger I spoke of rule me. Let it shape me. Instead of being able to reach out to others, to understand my life, I just .. followed. Brutally enforcing what had to be done. I didn't let pity, mercy, or even emotion sway me, except anger. I executed a man for disobeying orders when following them would have meant his death anyway. Let generals push me into bad firefights where my men died in heaps to get the job done. Let them nearly sacrifice me on Torfan, after tricking me with a person claiming to love me, then stick a medal around my damned neck and trot me out to every trouble spot."

She glanced around the cabin. "And what do I get for my loyalty? I'm still not understood. I don't fit. People cheer me or fear me, they don't understand me, and they don't care to. I'm not a woman, or a Marine, but an icon, something the SA can shake at the pirates and say 'boo' with."

Liara shook her head slowly. "Why do you say this, Sara?"

Shepard half turned, a wry smile crossing her dark , beautiful features. "Because I want you to know and understand that I don't have anything else, either. I don't have answers. I don't know that I can be of help to you in the way you are to me. I don't know if what I have to offer is going to offset the pain being with me can cause." She turned, fully, and her eyes were troubled. "I am not the same person I was when I started this mission. I was hard and cold, I didn't fear, I didn't hesitate. I was given a mission, told not to fail, and got to work."

Shepard turned, sitting bonelessly in the chair, pouring another drink. "I didn't stop Saren on Eden Prime. Maybe I was too late. Maybe if I'd sacrificed Lieutenant Parker and his team to get to the spaceport, I could have stopped him, or at least stopped Nihlus from dying." She drank, the bitter smile widening. "I rescued you from the geth, tried to stop Saren on Feros, nearly lost half my fucking team on Eingana." She sips again, shrugging. "I got told by the government I've worked for all my adult life that they basically only care about results, that the ends justify the means."

Her voice broke. "That they're no better than me. That the driving cause of my life is a joke , and that I am just as much a tool and weapon in the hands of evil men now as I was as a 10th Street Red. That I do not matter. Not to the SA."

Shepard's hands gripped the table edge, knuckles whitening. "I have found that I can't simply dismiss the team. That I can't close my eyes to what is. I can't stop the rage at what Saren has done, the fear that shoots through me when I see the Reapers in my mind, their ships falling from the sky. How the fuck am I supposed to stop this? How am I supposed to make it work?" Shepard sighed, and set the glass down, looking up towards Liara. "I need to be … more than I am. I can't be me and I don't know how to be anyone else."

Liara nodded slowly. "You are strong, Sara. Stronger than anyone else I know . You have gone through horrors I cannot truly understand, and trials that would break the strongest of people. You move through a life that you cannot fully grasp, and yet you find the time to inspire those around you, now, here." Liara took a step forward. "You cannot let the past define you, you can only use it to make yourself into what you think you should be."

Shepard's eyes narrowed, but not in anger. "And if I don't know? I don't need a warm body in my bed if it means nothing. I couldn't do that with Shields, or -"

Liara shook her head firmly, eyes seeking Shepard's own. "Shields never could grasp what you wanted and needed. From her you needed someone to depend upon, but without that additional step she wanted. You were not ready. They were your friends." Liara paused, remembering how disastrously she'd reacted with Amania's own overtures, she bit her lip. "And maybe if you had time to consider, in calmer times, you would have felt different."

Liara's hands carefully touched Shepard's shoulders, gently rubbing. "But you did not. I am not saying I have any answers to what torments you. I can offer myself. If that means that I am hurt, then it is better than feeling nothing. If it means that I am unhappy, then it is better than being miserable and not knowing. If it means I am used – "

Shepard's hand caught Liara's wrist. "I am not going to do that, Liara. It's not what I want, or what either of us need."

Liara gave a half-shrug, purple Widow-light from the nebula surrounding the Citadel casting her features in a somber hue, a faint smile twisting her lips. "I would not resist if you did. We may find joy or pain, but we will at least find something more than … empty duty, and wondering that is never resolved." With that, the asari freed her hand, and gently bent down to kiss Shepard, tasting the alien drink on her lips, feeling a thrill run through her as she did so.

This time Shepard did not hold back, and Liara felt heat rise within her, as her skin tingled and she felt the urge to link vibrating in her bones, her hips, her soul. For a moment she was lost, mind gone in fantasies of sliding limbs and pleasure, as the two slipped to the floor, the heavier human woman pinning her to the ground, eyes wide and dark.. Shepard smiled and caressed her softly, letting her tongue trace Liara's jawline, then to trail down Liara's throat, while her hands softly teased the back of her neck, the folds there quivering.

Liara shuddered, pleasure racing through her body, the heat of Shepard blazing through her thin shirt, muscled limbs tightening around her as haziness occluded Liara's sight, and then it was simply all too much. She reached out –

And the alarm panel blared, shockingly loud. "Entry request, C-SEC. Entry request, C-SEC."

Shepard gave a frustrated, angry groan, her face flushed and legs quivering. Almost, almost she couldn't find the will to stop – her body was tense and nearly ready to explode, throat dry, hands shaking, but she shook her head and reached up to slap the control. "Shepard," she growled, in an iron and angry voice. "This had better be good."

"C-SEC, Commander Shepard. One of your crew has been shot." Shepard's eyes widened, and yet it was Liara who sat up, bit her lip, and shook her head. "Go. We... will talk."

O-OSaBC-O

"Sorry, Commander. Didn't mean to cause trouble." Pressly's voice was weak, and muffled by the oxygen mask over his face. Medigel infused bandages wrapped his massive torso and shoulder neatly, the myriad blinking haptic displays on the medical monitor showing his heartbeat as weak but steady.

Shepard snorted, folding her arms, her BDU's savagely pressed even in the middle of the night. "Stow it, XO. You didn't do a damned thing wrong, except picking a bitch of a wife."

She half turned to the two C-SEC officers standing in the corridor beyond the hospital room, and frowned before turning back to face her XO. "Have they told you anything?"

Pressly faintly shook his head, smiling wanly. "No, Ma'am. Not after I came to, at least, in the ambulance."

Shepard sighed. Pressly had gone to the Citadel, planning to get the rest of his belongings out of the home he shared with his now ex-wife. Upon arriving, however, he'd been told angrily that she'd thrown all of his possessions – including mementos of his family – into the trash. He'd been angry at this, and when a large man came to the door behind his ex-wife and threatened him, he'd acted, as he put it, rashly.

The man had shot him twice, and told C-SEC he was 'in fear of his life'. Shepard sighed, and with a last glance at her XO, left the room to face to the two C-SEC officers. "So, what happens now?"

The lead officer, a slender turian female, also gave a sigh, her dark grey plates and black skin giving her a depressing mien, hardly offset by dark grey eyes. "The law is very clear. The security cameras show your officer struck the human in question first. He had some level of alcohol in his system, and—"

Shepard snarled. "When is the proper response to being punched to pull a gun and put two accelerator slugs into an unarmored, unshielded opponent?"

The C-SEC officer shrugged. "The law is the law, Commander Shepard. As the crime occurred on the Citadel, it falls into our jurisdiction. You can appeal to the Justice Circuit if you wish to prosecute him under Systems Alliance military law, but the charges stand as assault and battery."

Shepard gave a thin smile, and the two C-SEC officers were hard pressed not to shudder at the sheer predatory level of menace in the look. "Is the man pressing charges against my XO, officer?"

The turian sighed again, more heavily. "Yes. We can't just dismiss him, even once he clears medical, he is to be arraigned and a court date set."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "That's my executive officer, and he's overseeing my navigator. I can't spend two weeks tied up in port while you roll through a fucking assault charge. That will have to be delayed until our mission is completed."

The other officer, a surprisingly large salarian, shook his head rapidly. "That is not the protocol for such a criminal act, and I have no doubt the court would deny such a request. Bail has not been determined until he is arraigned. That will only happen once he clears medical."

Shepard rolled her eyes, and nodded sourly. She pulled up her omni-tool, performing a search, and then gave them both a perfunctory glance. "I'll be back in about an hour."

Shepard immediately left, cursing the issue. Pressly was, of course, under a ton of stress, and she wasn't really surprised he'd cold-cocked the guy – the divorce wasn't even finalized, and here was someone living in his home. She didn't need to understand much emotionally to grasp how infuriating that must have been, but Pressly had always struck her as someone with a cool head. The whole thing felt off, somehow, and she was already vastly irritated about the timing.

Still, as she left the hospital and hailed an air-cab, she was of mixed feelings as to how things had turned out with Liara in her cabin, and despite the importance of Pressly to the mission, her mind kept going back to those moments. It didn't help her body was still quivering, aching for a touch, a release. But she knew that banging Liara on the floor of her quarters while half-drunk would not have been the way to start any kind of relationship, and it felt too much like the sort of wild, out of control mess she'd gotten into with...

Shepard sighed, pushing ugly memories out of her head, focusing on her destination as best she could. It was a quick trip, and the aircar hovered quietly at the balcony of the housing docking pad, as Shepard walked along the line of doors until she came to the proper one. A spot of blood still marred the otherwise pristine white metal flooring, and Shepard sneered before knocking on the door.

It took several minutes for the door to flit to opaque around the middle, showing a pair of suspicious eyes that widened in shock when they took in Shepard. The door opened, hesitantly, revealing a heavily built young man, bare-chested and wearing black sweatpants, and older woman, still attractive, with long blond hair, dressed in a robe. "Y-you -"

"Shut up." Shepard's voice was icy cold, cruel. "You have two choices. You can immediately contact C-SEC and drop all charges against Commander Pressly, and let this incident go. Or you can go ahead and press charges, denying me my crew man. If you do that, I assure you, you will suffer. I will make very sure the Earth Ambassador knows who delayed my mission and possibly caused the Normandy not to be in position for operations. I'll get your citizenships downgraded by the SA and a couple of nice commissars to come along and take a good long look at your past history for … irregularities. And no one will want to fucking employ someone who's made an enemy of humanity's first Spectre."

She turned her eyes from the male to the woman. "As for you, lady, pray to God that we never, ever have occasion to meet again. It's pretty clear to me who is the piece of trash in this relationship, and I assure you, if I pitch you over the side of this fucking balcony into the nebula, I'll basically get told not to do that again and that will be the end of it. Don't ever bother Pressly again."

She turned on a heel, not even bothering to pay attention to whatever terrified babble that came out of their mouths, and paused to give the security camera a wicked, cruel smile before storming off to her aircar.

O-OSaBC-O

"Sir?"

Executor Palin dragged a single talon across his forehead plates, feeling the faint indentation as he did so, where a bullet had missed him by inches a decade before. The turian laughed softly, before turning around to face Detective Breenick.

"Drop the charges, let the human go."

Breenick's plates shifted, one mandible clamping down tightly. "But -"

Palin gave the turian a bleak look. "You know anything about Shepard, Detective? No? Well, she does not coddle criminals. It's a domestic disturbance turned stupid. I know what the law says. I know what the codes say. And I know making a fuss over this will get me, you, C-SEC, and spirits knows who else shat upon by the Council. It's not worth the trouble. The human is going to be confined to the ship and dealt with according to military justice, and the humans in question have dropped charges and asked for the entire incident to be dismissed."

Palin sighed, folding his hands together. "It irks me that Shepard is acting this way, but she could have just used her Spectre authority to force us to drop everything, and she didn't. Given the veedek-crap we've been getting from the Spectres recently, not to mention that disgrace Saren, I'd actually call that a positive step. Notify the hospital to discharge him to Shepard's custody, or that of her military police, ASAP."

The detective sighed and , saluting, turned away. Palin continued to steeple his fingers for a long moment before tapping out a series of numbers on his comm-panel, a voice speaking quietly a few moments later. "Give me Ambassador Udina, please."

He waited several minutes, before the tired voice of Udina sounded on the phone. "Executor Palin. I'm sure there's something of great import that leads you to call me at four in the morning?" The nasal voice sounded irritated and sleepy, and Palin suppressed a grin as he replied.

"Of course, sir. We just had an altercation involving one of Shepard's command crew, a Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressly. He had a domestic violence issue with his ex-wife, and her new boyfriend put two rounds into him in what he calls self-defense. C-SEC was going to prosecute for attempted trespass and assault, but your new Spectre apparently threatened the victims with something unpleasant if they didn't drop the charges post-haste. Shepard has assured me that this incident will not recur, but I find myself in the difficult position that certain parties will take umbrage at the fact I did not force an arrest due to … well, Spectre interference."

Udina sighed, and gave a rueful chuckle. "Shepard never ceases to present problems and aggravations, Executor, but I appreciate you taking the time to notify me of this rather than having it blow up in my face in the morning. It's my understanding that once several other members of Shepard's team clear medical, they will be departing the Citadel, and that it may be several weeks or more until they return again." Udina paused, before continuing. "In that light, I'll make sure to issue instructions that the incident will not happen again, and pay a visit to the victims of this issue sometime tomorrow to smooth any feathers that may have been ruffled. I do have one question – did Shepard frame this as a Spectre issue?"

Palin sighed, Udina was far too wily to be incautious with his words. "Not in so many words, Ambassador, but -"

"Ah, excellent. Then it's merely a matter of our good commander acting like a blood-drinking Neanderthal. I wouldn't worry, Executor. She is hardly one to disobey the law and will make very certain these kinds of incidents do not reflect badly on the SA. Or, for that matter, C-SEC." The voice had gotten almost oily, and Palin grimaced at how carefully Udina had sidestepped the larger issue, but admired the deftness.

"I understand, Ambassador, and I wish you a pleasant return to your rest. Palin out."

The turian killed the commlink, sighing, "Humans."

O-OSaBC-O

Tali's transfer to her new armor was completed shortly, followed by the crew slowly returning to the ship. Joker was indeed completely overwhelmed by the device Tali had made for him, the eezo-assisted braces allowing him to walk with much greater ease and less pain than crutches without drawing additional attention to him. His gait was slightly hunched and unsteady, but it was a far cry from hobbling about in agony, and for once Joker had no quick , easy and glib words, stumbling over thanks almost as awkwardly as Tali tried to downplay her effort.

Dr. Chakwas gave a fierce, happy chuckle at the scene playing out on the mess decks. She'd seen odder pairings before, and certainly Jeff seemed more at ease with the little quarian than some of the crew. She was not one to judge after having done some rather daring things in her youth.

Another chuckle, and she turned to face her two patients, both secured in the medical bay biobeds. Pressly would be up by the evening, his wounds not being that serious once stabilized, his broken shoulder-blade already handled by the bone regenerator. Still, he was dour and downcast, his expression strained, as Shepard listened to his broken explanation of what had occurred at his ex-wife's house.

Chakwas could only cluck disapprovingly at the tawdry nature of the entire situation. Bad enough to throw your husband out in the midst of a life or death mission, worse to blame him for the situation, and almost gauche to hurl his belongings in the trash. But to take up habitation with a man half one's age barely a week after filing for divorce moved into the category of being a wanton hussy in the prim doctor's mind, and she sympathized with the XO as he almost wilted after finishing his tale.

The other patient, Garrus, was actually pretty much back to full duty. Kaidan had been dismissed from the hospital the night before, and Garrus was almost fully healed, albeit with shock-absorbing sleeves covering much of his torso and leg . He seemed agitated and distracted as well, checking his comm unit on his omni-tool for responses to messages that clearly never came. Despite being technically fit for duty, Chakwas wanted to keep him in medical until the ship cleared, in case of further internal bleeding.

Shepard patted Pressly awkwardly on the shoulder, before turning away. "Keep an eye on 'em, Doc."

Chakwas nodded, and Shepard stalked through the Med Bay doors, mind on her last bits of business. Liara had been scarce all morning – no surprise, given how abruptly things ended – and Shepard wasn't quite ready to finish that conversation they'd started. Meanwhile, the SA had finally sent replacement marines for the four she'd lost, or at least volunteers, and Shepard exited the ship and crossed the docking ramp to meet them.

Upon crossing over, she stiffened immediately. Three of the figures were indeed marines. Two of them were wearing dark black uniforms, boldly emblazoned with the flash of an A7, haloed with a white circle. Both had large, bulky armor storage cases on a grav-lift behind, them, boldly stenciled with white block letters - "D A C T".

The third marine was also a big man, broad and powerful through the chest, with long arms corded with muscle. His designation flash was that of an A7 as well, a veteran marine, his Alliance blues decorated heavily with a dozen medals and honors, and the triangular pips of a senior chief were high on his collar.

The last figure was not a marine. Wearing dark black armor that was skin-tight and stiffened with shock-cloth in pads across the chest, knees and arms, the asari woman was dwarfed by the huge humans around her. A vicious looking shotgun was clipped to the small of her back by maglocks, and a double-link omnitool was clearly visible embedded into her arm gauntlet. Fierce blue eyes met Shepard's with neither hesitancy nor fear, and Shepard gave a long suffering sigh.

She turned first to the senior chief, returning his salute. "Senior Chief Emilo Vega, Commander." The man is shaved bald, with a wicked looking goatee around his narrow, but smiling, mouth. His eyes are a hardened, cold black, his Hispanic features muted slightly under the lights glaring down from above. "A7 , due to retire in about six months. TacNet said the Normandy needed volunteers. Guess I made the cut."

Shepard nodded. "Service record, chief?"

Vega smiled again, disarmingly. "Did service in the FCW under General Williams, but got pulled off of Shanxi before the Fall after I received a gutshot. Came back with the Admiral and wiped me a few spikes. Garrison duty on Biel's World, advisor garrison duty on SA Protectorate on Noveria, and six years in the 19th RIU. Been pulling recruiting duty back home in Cali, LosAl Arcology, but got deployed the Citadel as part of the Ambassador's guard unit." He chuckled. "Got my A7, but also J2, V6, D4, and E2".

Shepard arched an eyebrow, the man was qualified at bomb disposal, damage control, training, and even field first aid. She jerked her thumb. "In that case, welcome aboard, Senior Chief. Master Chief Cole is the COB, and Gunnery Chief Williams is the top kick, but since my BDO is also a biotic, probably easier for the master chief to run the forward battle stuff, and you and Williams run the squads."

Vega nodded. "Just happy to serve, ma'am. My nephew joined up a few years back and he's already a big fan of yours." Gathering his kitbag, he trotted across the gangway, and Shepard turned to the two heavy troopers.

"They sent me goddamned lunatics?"

The two big Marines laughed at that, and the senior of the two spoke. "Sergeant Jack Florez and Sergeant Uriel Montoya, Ma'am. We're indeed with the Drop-Assault Combat Team. Orders came from Central command. Doubt you remember us, Ma'am, but we did cleanup assault on that friggin' mess on Almor. We're supposed to support you in the field, Ma'am, and bring some heavy weapons and mobility to the team."

Shepard nodded. The DACT were power-armored soldiers, wearing thick battle armor with multiple shield generators, and equipped with extremely heavy weapons. But their biggest ability was the capability to utilize a mass-effect jet to jump from orbit to the ground, coming in with no warning and no time to defend. DACT's had a reputation for being crazed fighters, but Shepard had gone into fights with more than one team of them, and knew their lethality.

She smiled. "For now, we'll have you act as ready reserve when we go hot, rather than split you up between the squads. Report to Master Chief Cole for orders and make sure your gear is ready to go."

The two marines nodded, hauling their gear behind them as they went, leaving only the asari standing on the docks. "Commander Shepard."

Shepard sighed. "You're Garrus'..." She trailed off delicately, and the asari woman smiled.

"Officer Telanya Nasan, C-SEC Customs. I'm here to assist your efforts to track down Saren. The Systems Alliance was going to send you another marine, but Councilor Tevos was kind enough to suggest that perhaps alternative methods might work better."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Tevos , huh? This is official? Should I even ask? We both know why you're here, Officer."

The smaller asari woman's eyes blazed, uncowed. "Tracking Saren requires someone familiar with how customs works. He has to have some methods of moving money and equipment around, and that leaves a trail that can be followed. According to the Council you have no leads and are going to strike out at certain targets hoping to find some. How will you even know what you're looking at without an expert?"

That sounded plausible, and indeed useful, but Shepard frowned. "You are military trained? I still have a hole in my platoon, and being down a rifleman could mean life or death out there."

From the slump of her shoulders, some of the confidence went out of Telanya, but she met Shepard's gaze levelly. "I'm trained by C-SEC in rifle, pistol and CQB with shotguns. I'm not a strong biotic, certainly no match for a princess of the Thirty, but I can hold my own." Her voice was slightly bitter, and Shepard frowned , but said nothing, as the asari continued. "My value will be correlating and fitting together some of the data you find or have already found. The SA was just going to send you another goon with a gun."

Shepard tilted her head. "I'm a goon with a gun."

The asari woman rolled her eyes. "I highly doubt that, Commander. I understand that I probably won't hold up as well as you might like, but I am asari – and I've trained with my weapons longer than any of you humans has ever been alive."

Shepard sighed. Telanya was right, they really didn't have any kind of specialists for the data they might find in their raids, and it was clear the SA giving her support that, while great in combat, didn't really get the job done. They weren't about to give Shepard deep cover intel in fear that she'd immediately dash off to use it.

Telanya could be very handy...and the fact that she was around might rein in Garrus' impulsive streak. With a sigh, she gestured to the ship. "Report to .. er, report to Master Chief Cole, just follow the other soldiers." She sighed, but a part of her was amused by the fierce smile of triumph on the small asari woman's face as she passed by.

Shepard shook her head. "Battle chicken is going to flip his shit."


	71. Chapter 62: The Illusive Man , Elusive

**A/N: **_Well, I had to do this little segment, to set things up. _

_2013-03-27 : Somehow got Garza and Florez confused, mind is going; fixed now, thanks Viper! _

* * *

"It's been confirmed, sir. The Council is playing things very hush-hush, but over a dozen STG teams and nearly a quarter of the Turian Fifth Fleet have been deployed so far, with elements of the Turian Ninth and Tenth battalions and an entire storm of asari commandos." The voice was elegant and precise, but contained a note of irritation, one that the Illusive Man gave a faint smile at.

Knocking the ash from his cigarette, he only nodded. "That's to be expected, Miranda. Shepard is not a fool, and it's clear that any hope of covering Cerberus' involvement with Saren's activities has failed. We already know the SA has been tasked with identifying and dealing with the geth, and I suspect the Council is using a totally non-human force in this. Both to deny us intel about when they plan to act…"

He paused, taking a puff from his cigarette, and smiled again. "...and to ensure there is no hesitation in destroying any targets they find."

The haptic image of Miranda flickered atop the finely polished wooden table, the QEC device his scientists had engineered still having a few bugs. After a moment it cleared, showing the steady gaze of the young woman he'd tapped as his third in command. "Central Command should be notified. It will take time to move units around –"

She stopped, as the Illusive Man raised his hand. "Not this time, Miranda." He couldn't help but smile at the expression that crossed her face , covering his amusement by sipping on his drink. "I argued against involvement with Saren and whatever it is that he plans to do from the beginning. We started Cerberus to enable and empower humanity to survive."

Miranda pursed her lips but said nothing, and the Illusive Man waved a hand at the display to his left, showing figures about the many economic holdings Cerberus had. "We've managed to infiltrate and occupy multiple stakes in the economy of the Systems Alliance, gather influential contacts, and raise huge sums of cash. Yet..."

He stood, turning to face the windows of the room. The corporate headquarters of Cord-Hislop Aerospace towered above the skyline of the Denver arcology, its clean lines demonstrative of the best human engineering and architecture. But this room, the top floor of the building, was the private retreat of Jack Harper. Once a mere soldier and mercenary, he'd built the basis of a survivalist network with his own hands, hard work, and money, as well as that of like-minded and far-seeing businessmen.

But eleven years ago, Alliance Intelligence had bested him. His best defense systems and mercenary troops were no match for DACT teams lead by biotic commissars, and the black-ops group had been taken. Harper expected a show trial and execution, or maybe merely a quiet bullet in the head, but had been surprised. The Alliance Intelligence handlers did not dismantle his economic empire or go after his intelligence assets. They wanted Cerberus to continue and expand its work.

And to that end, they'd foisted two figures off on him. Rather than his handpicked general, his military forces were now lead by Rachel Florez, SA general, and his science division had been co-opted by a madman. Rather that focus on economic control and ensuring humanity was not subtly infiltrated, their new focus was on the sort of vile actions the other races took.

Jack Harper was not a terrorist. He did not find aliens very impressive, that was certainly true, but he hated the turians, not just for being responsible for the deaths of a man he admired and called a friend, and a woman he wished he'd told how he felt. He hated the turians because they had savaged humanity for no reason, and because they were the cat's paws of others.

He didn't feel he was racist, per se. He'd indulged more than once with a bitter outcast asari matriarch, who hated her own people's path. He'd used the services of a pair of drell assassins who were excellent and professional in everything they did. No, he wasn't a blind fool – humanity had to deal with aliens.

That was not to say that humanity had to kneel to aliens.

But he wanted humanity to deal with them from a position of strength, as equals – not as petitioners and subordinates. He'd seen how the asari and salarians worked. They subverted economies, disrupted cultures, sowed chaos and political discord, and eventually reduced other races to little more than servants. They'd crushed the Krogan rebellions by using the turians, but the turians were so far in debt to the Asari Republic and the Salarian Union that to call in those debts would crush the Turian government in a fortnight. They offered embassies to volus, hanar, and elcor, but ensured those races had no real say in the future of the Citadel's actions.

So Jack Harper understood why Alliance Intel would want to keep Cerberus around, but with handlers. But he doubted those handlers and their goals, and recently had begun to wonder if the government of the SA was not a more appropriate target than the aliens he feared.

The SA had always been brutal, from the days of terrorism and the near destruction of Earth in the Purge of Iron. Born in a time where government only existed by force, the SA was the whip hand that coordinated and controlled humanity. But it had grown darker and darker as time went on, until the colonies became little more than work camps beholden to the SA under crushing tax burdens, while the rich and powerful grew ever more so.

His handlers had demonstrated that perfectly. General Florez, put in charge of the Cerberus military, expanded it from a few mercenary bands designed to protect Cerberus operations to a shadow army and navy, violating the Treaty of Farixen and prototyping technologies and weapons that would later be moved into production for the entire SA military. Florez made sure these contracts were awarded to companies she owned, and used the Cerberus forces to train and sculpt a cadre of officers and NCO's loyal to her alone. Such blatant corruption and cronyism revolted Harper. He'd made his millions, of course, but most of Cerberus's economic prowess he'd invested in colonies, in lobbying for the improvement of medical care and access to clean water and food for arcology dwellers, and to reduce alien influences on culture. He'd never done it merely to line his pocket as she did.

Worse, this military buildup was clearly intended for no good purpose. Heavy on precision snipers, assault units, urban combat troops and biotic CQB specialists, this was no army that could be fielded against invasions by aliens. This force was clearly intended to act as some kind of storming force of some sort of closed in area. A large metropolitan area, perhaps on Earth.

Or perhaps to attempt to take the Citadel. The lunacy of such an act wasn't beyond Florez; she'd lost children in the FCW and her niece had been raped by a turian criminal, who had consequently been let off on a technicality.

Jack Harper saw no way this force would lead to humanity being able to hold its own. Rachel Florez was lost in a world of heroic fantasies, thinking a handful of cruisers and pack of murderous, category-six rejects would equal victory over the enemies of humanity.

The third part of Cerberus, the man in charge of research, was even more vile. Harper had authorized some bad things, that was true. Experiments on biotic children to see the limits of biotic power. But when those had gone bad, he'd shut them down, and punished the scientists involved. Even today, almost twenty years later, he was still angry over some of the atrocities those fool scientists had committed.

But the Shadow Hand's research was certifiably insane. They studied rachni and husks, plundered ancient dig sites, and embraced the torture of sentient beings for no other reason than they were aliens. In the eyes of the Shadow Cell, any alien was an inferior being, and if they could be put to some form of purpose, any atrocity was acceptable. The Illusive Man couldn't deny that these experiments had yielded incredible results – toxins, defenses against biotics, improved genetic and cybernetic implants, new medicines, drugs, and even a possible treatment for memory loss based on drell proteins used in memory formation.

The cost, however, was too high. Cerberus had obliterated an entire asari colony for striking at their forces. They'd tortured and killed hundreds of aliens, and recently, driven to find answers to questions no one should ever have asked, they'd started experimenting on humans. Letting them be converted by spores into thralls, to attempt to master some kind of instant communications relay, even though they'd already developed the QEC for that purpose. . Some, like the Shadow Hand, would scream that the end always justified the means.

Jack Harper, however, was not a terrorist. His eyes narrowed, and his smile, always so gentle and deceptive, faded to form hard, handsome lines in his face. "Miranda, the time is rapidly approaching where our link with Saren, and some of the things we've let happen, will blacken the name of Cerberus forever in humanity's eyes. I don't really care what aliens think of us—their own groups, like the Night-Wind, hardly any better—but I'm not about to be caught up in some witch hunt, nor allow all we have worked so hard to build be cast down with that pair of goons the SA foisted off on me." He paused, thinking. "The SA leadership is so fragmented right now that I don't even know if the High Senators or the Fleet Master know that we're dealing with Saren. I expect it came as quite a surprise."

Miranda Lawson's mouth tightened, clear blue eyes narrowing in turn as she considered the ramifications, and the Illusive Man smiled. He would let her put the pieces together herself, and in a few moments of reflection she did just that, scowling. "You think the SA isn't giving the orders anymore."

The Illusive Man shrugged. "I've prepared for this day for the past six years, carefully liquidating assets, setting up shell companies and leaving a large network of resources and properties to... act as a blind. We'll lose some of our domination over the economy, and billions of credits. But we will have a secondary economic net set up, with new locations to act from. When the hammer falls, I don't intend to be here." He paused, and then smiled. "In fact, I see no reason to wait. Shutdown everything in Montreal and withdraw all our people. There's a transport waiting at the South Montreal Spaceport, the Sudden Gamble. Shed uniforms, prepare new ID's, and travel to Horizon. I'll be along shortly to pick you up."

He cut the connection, exhaling and extinguishing his cigarette, before moving to the far wall of his richly appointed office. He pulled out a slender book, opening it to find a keycard, one that would only activate if keyed with both fingerprint and breath. This he put in his pocket, walking back over to his desk and typing in a few commands to the built in keyboard .

He walked out, even as Cord-Hislop Aerospace began a massive series of buy and sell transactions on the stock market. Orders for mass system deletions in the mainframes and backup locations were triggered. The programmers and network admins who would prevent such catastrophes were unable to, as the same command triggered halon fire suppression systems, locking the doors. The QEC set into the table of his office smouldered and collapsed, rendering any tracking of his messages impossible.

Jack Harper wasn't a terrorist, but he couldn't leave behind loose ends either. Knowing that he'd just executed forty two people in three buildings, he wasn't happy, his face set in grim lines. He'd told himself so many times that the costs had to be paid that , some days, he almost believed it.

That never made him feel any cleaner.

He walked to the elevator, pausing to look back over his office, the business he'd built and named after his closest friends, before entering. Sliding the now activated keycard into the slot, it took him to a sub-basement that could not be found on any blueprint or map of the building. The elevator was silent, it's rich wood panels muted in their color in the dim light, and his mind walked through the steps he would have to take to proceed with.

The room that was revealed when he stepped off the elevator was bare, gleaming white. Equipment lay shrouded under plastic throws with a thin layer of dust over them, making him sneeze once as he threw them off. He paused, opening up one wall panel to reveal an incinerator, which he switched on. He waited patiently for it to begin to glow, then tossed in his PDA, phone, and wallet. He began to pull off his fine suit, tossing each piece in as he went, until he was stark naked, shivering a bit in the cold, dry air.

Another wall yielded a slender valise and a shelf of clothing, which he put on – plain slacks, a shirt open to the stomach and a light jacket. From the valise he pulled out a bottle of hair-coloration gel, running it through his hair thoroughly, darkening the gray and silver to black, before walking over to a sink built into one wall and rinsing them off. He noted with approval that the water ran clear and cool the moment he touched the control – his engineers had done well.

He glanced up as a wall panel illuminated on the far wall, scrolling a series of codes. His eyes narrowed as he took in their meaning. There were already hackers in the financial systems, looking for clues, seeking answers.

_STG, most likely. I have less ti__me than I thought. _A chill ran up his spine as he realized that, if he had waited a few days to implement his separation, the hackers shredding through Earth's data-sphere would certainly have tracked he and his connections almost instantly.

He wasn't out of danger yet, either. More codes illuminated – turian units on Vurta, assaulting the Iron Cell dockyard there. Landings on Parit, Cold Water and mass translations into the empty system of Dighiris, where a deep space facility that was one of the hold fasts of the entire organization was located.

The view screen was dancing with more and more updates, and demands from field operatives coming under attack, all of them screaming interrogatives from the network. Jack chuckled, drying his hands, and returned to the valise, applying a slender, false beard, and rubbing a tanning agent over his exposed face and hands. A moment later, he applied false-color contacts to his eyes, sealing away the blue-glowing reminder of his experience at the hands of the Arca Device.

He pitied some of the agents out there, dying as he let the contacts and beard set on his face, but there was nothing to be done.

Survival was it's own reward.

Jack Harper was gone. In his stead was a tanned vacationer named Des Solas from – he paused to think back about the documents he'd prepared years ago, against this very eventuality – Eden Prime. _How ironic. _He laughed quietly at the name he'd picked as well, before he carefully put the materials he'd used to alter his appearance back into the valise. He turned, putting the entire valise into the incinerator as well.

Opening a second panel flush with the white-steel wall, he pulled down a harness, and a slightly battered mark V Predator pistol. He slipped out of his jacket, put the harness on, and then holstered the weapon, before putting the light brown jacket back on. As usual, its soft leather fell loosely over him, the pistol invisible at a casual glance. He reached into the jacket – a new PDA was in one pocket, a light shield generator in the other, spare ID and cash tucked neatly into the interior lining.

The screen on the wall flashed again. "Incoming Typhonet communication string detected – Shadow Hand". A moment later the screen lit up, displaying the angry, wide features of the leader of Cerberus's science division. "Jack! What the hell is going on? Half of our comms are jammed. A third of my intel teams are down or under attack, and we have assaults coming in from all bases!"

The Illusive Man sighed, knowing his image was not being transmitted back to the man sending the transmission. This connection was secure, since the room would soon be gone, but there was no point taking chances in letting his new appearance be known. "Sorry, Richard. I'm afraid it's come time for us to part ways. The Citadel is going to take us down, and I'm not interested in being offered up to the aliens to make peace. You're on your own."

Richard's face flushed. "You... traitor! You spit on humanity!"

Jack smiled faintly. "I'm surviving to fight another day. I've made plans for it to happen, and I'm aware you have your own orders from the SA to keep me in line. That … arraignment has ended. In the ever so eloquent words of Dr. Mintha, 'I'm not a goddamned terrorist.'" Jack touched the screen, killing the connection, then noted the next batch of status updates, frowning.

The assaults were moving too fast. This was more than some all-out assault on every known Cerberus location. This spoke to either a traitor... or the Shadow Broker. Yet his own asset in that creepy organization made no indication that the Broker Network had reached out or been contacted by the Citadel for anything aside from the hunt for Saren. He'd miscalculated, somewhere. There must be another channel, something he'd missed ….

No matter.

He sighed, then finished his preparations. He picked up a suitcase from the shelf which had held his gun, and a pair of sunglasses, then walked over to the final alcove. He hit the keyboard there, tapping in commands, and six pairs of AESIR light mechs powered on, rising up in front of a glass-filled tank.

Within floated a clone of Jack Harper.

With a sigh, he turned to the mechs. "Implement program BAIT". Turning away, he slapped a final control on the wall, revealing a tunnel that lead to the Denver Spaceport.

The mechs began to move as Jack Harper walked way. They drained the clone tank, laying the unconscious being out, drying him with cloths they took from a nearby shelf. They dressed him in spare clothes, an expensive jacket and a name brand shirt. They sat him up and spoke pre-programmed subliminal messages to him. The nearly-mindless thing smoked two cigarettes, ate part of an energy bar, and drank several glasses of scotch.

Other bots gathered up everything in the room, spraying it down with bleach even as two escorted the clone to the elevator. They shut the tunnel behind their master, the mechanism doing so dumping a mass of water and quick-setting cement to plug the gap behind the wall, the motors burning out as they lowered the tunnel door. The robots then finished sterilizing the room, before standing around an explosive charge built into the floor.

The two accompanying the clone barely swayed as an explosion rumbled through the Cord-Hislop building. People were running around, the horrible tragedy of the 'malfunctioning' fire-suppressant system in IT having summoned both medical personal and police. But no one but the CEO used his private elevator, and thus the robots and their charge reached his office unmolested.

Following subconscious programmed commands burned into its virgin mind, the clone sat down at the desk, pulling out a pen and paper. It waited as one of the robots, programmed to mimic Jack Harper's writing perfectly, wrote out a suicide note, and then handed him a pistol – a replica of the pistol now resting in the real Jack Harper's holster.

The two robots then departed the office, taking the elevator down to the maintenance level, and stood in a corner, their memory cores wiping clean then exploding. A moment later, a single shot rang out in the CEO's office.

Half a mile away, the Illusive Man smiled as the PDA in his pocket beeped once.

O-OSaBC-O

The two Systems Alliance intelligence agents were not happy as they accompanied Spectre Vasir and Spectre Bau through the lobby of Cord-Hislop Aerospace, but they had little choice. STG hackers were convinced that, despite a series of brilliant defensive hacks and illusions, that the CEO of CHA, one Jack Harper, was in truth the leader of Cerberus.

Already, even while STG units hunted for Cerberus forces and turian strike teams crushed what military infrastructure they had, the Spectres were going after the leaders. They had no idea who this "Shadow Hand" might be, or even clues to his location, but supposedly Rear Admiral Kahoku did, and so that target had been left to Spectre Shepard. The "Iron General" was believed to be on Seppra, in a massive military facility and warehouse with over almost a battalion of Cerberus soldiers – facing down the entire force of the 9th Turian Infantry. More installations and space stations had been crushed.

Volus C-SEC FINCIN hackers and specialists had identified dozens of companies, banks, and probable backers of Cerberus. No one very big, but a lot of little people. Thankfully, all indications showed Cerberus had not penetrated any of the SA leadership at all. Bau wasn't sure he believed that fully, but that's what the data seemed to indicate. He and others had worried there was a direct link between the SA and Cerberus, which might have lead to war.

Now, all that remained was the leader. They'd sealed off the building but according to employees and police – already there due to an unexplained accident in the IT center – no one had seen him leave the building, and his private lift-jet was still on the roof. As gunships circled the building, and news crews began to arrive, the Spectres entered the CEO's private elevator and took the ride up to his penthouse.

Jondam Bau took the safety off his gun, as did Tela Vasir, her hands moving over her heavy shotgun carefully in the confined spaces of the elevator. The two intelligence agents from the SA, wearing only their uniforms instead of battle armor, glanced at each other uncertainly. "We're not equipped for a fight. You said arrest and interrogation, asari."

Vasir gave them an arch look. "We cannot be sure this one won't put up a fight, and he was... quite a handful in his younger days." She prepared herself, ready to make a biotic dash if need be, when the elevator doors opened.

The gun had fallen from his hand, but there was no doubt – Jack Harper was dead. The four fanned out, Bau already running DNA scans and sensor examinations. "…signs of bone trauma. Food, alcohol in the stomach." He bent down, sampling the drying, darkening blood on the rich carpet, before sighing. "DNA match confirmed." The two intelligence agents shook their head and departed, leaving the Spectres alone – Harper's death had been the only thing they needed to see.

Vasir grunted. "Damn. Lunatics." She glanced over the note, spattered with droplets of blood, and then at the human slumped in the expensive chair. The office still smelled of cigarette smoke, the glass on the desk still wet with condensation. "We didn't miss him by much, either. We'll check his computers—"

Bau snorted. "Waste of time. Accident in company IT center was probably to cover tracks. Always admired Illusive Man's skill, if not his methods and focus. A very worthy opponent." The slender salarian sighed, taking pictures with his omni-tool, as Vasir walked to the window, gazing out over the city, the mountains visible through the huge shield dome of the arcology.

She smiled. Cerberus had no idea of her ties and links with the Shadow Broker, a conduit that had allowed that mysterious figure to pass critical information about Cerberus' operations directly to her, and through the Spectre Network. With only one human Spectre, there was no way Cerberus could infiltrate their ranks. Thus the strike against the human terrorist group was led by many Spectre teams. While this was a drain on other operations – the Spectre group was already tasked well beyond capacity – it was likely to take up only a few days, and thus acceptable. Indeed, with the first strike having gone so well, Spectre presence was hardly needed any longer.

"Anything else, Bau?"

The salarian agent, as close as a leader to the Spectre ranks as any other, shrugged weakly, his large black eyes distant in thought. "Surprising turn of events. . Would have suspected Illusive Man to have contingency plans."

Vasir laughed, walking towards the elevator. "You give these humans too much credit, Bau."

O-OSaBC-O

Sitting in a cafe at the spaceport, waiting on his pilot to finish preflight checks so he could board, the disguised Jack Harper listened to the news reports of his own death, a suicide in the service of Cerberus. He paused, laughing softly to himself, before looking up as a slender asari matriarch in a pale gray and black dress walked up. "So, you slipped the net after all. You look... more youthful like this."

Jack tilted his head. "Ah, but Trellani, you shouldn't be surprised." He stood, linking arms with the willowy asari, and the two began walking towards the docks. "After all, those seeking me have a very limited, narrow – and, by design, flawed – understanding of their foe."

Trellani snorted. "Most underestimate and overestimate humans at the same time. No matter. While you are with me, no one will recognize you ... which is no doubt why you so graciously invited me to accompany you on your little jaunt."

Jack shrugged. The relationship between himself and the alien woman had surprised him endless times over the decade and a half they had known each other. Trellani was an outcast, an asari who had rejected the sensual, manipulative and wheeling social games and byzantine politics of her race. Her faith in her people had been shattered through the study of ancient documents that indicated the asari were nothing more than pawns of the Protheans, cast aside for an unknown reason near the time of the Prothean extinction. Rather than accept her concepts, the Council of Matriarchs had not only exiled her but attempted to have her assassinated more than once.

Jack had never really understood how the asari had concealed Prothean involvement in their history. Most asari didn't even know about it – the only way he knew was from Trellani herself, and she'd known nothing until her years in the temple had let her rise to such a rank that she could find things out for herself. Her inability to deal with the destruction of her faith had led her to many dark roads, and eventually to Cerberus, and to Jack.

Trellani was not _exactly_ a lover, as Jack Harper didn't really believe in love any more. Love had blinded him to the truth long ago, had twisted his heart and left him unready for the tragedy that was life. And Trellani had seen her own bond-mate murdered by asari assassins , a mark that would never heal for two people so linked.

Still, they were more than friends. Melding was a process that was invasive and alien to the Illusive Man, but it gave him the most insight into the mindset of the asari, and Trellani had centuries of experience in manipulating, wheeling, dealing, and treachery. He knew she was bitter and hateful, and had her own ideas and plans... and for the moment, those were somewhere in the next century or two. No threat to humanity.

And while Jack Harper was no believer in mingling human and alien culture … Trellani was that rarest of things – someone he could trust implicitly, who could tell him better than any other when hate or disdain, or even mere racism, was clouding his vision. He turned to her now, arching an eyebrow, pulling them to a stop. "Am I doing the right thing?"

Trellani paused, glancing around but finding no one nearby. The spaceport was nearly abandoned, as there were not many passenger departures at this time of night, and she shrugged. "Your group has done some vile things, and we have argued over them many times. That being said… you are doing what should have been done years ago. Those other two cretins are little more than the same sort of narrow-minded bigots that turned the First Contact War from a misunderstanding to a war crime, and your government..." Her eyes narrowed, and the soft lines of her face hardened before she fixed her gaze on Harper. "There are too many old wounds in the history of humanity for your race to heal."

The Illusive Man nodded, then glanced at his pocket, as his PDA suddenly vibrated. He pulled it out, examining the screen, then stood , holding out an arm. "The ship is ready, beautiful matriarch. Shall we depart? The falls of Horizon are brilliant in the summer, and I do so love the uncomfortable, vaguely put out look Ms. Lawson gets when you hang off my arm, as if I've made love to the hired help or something."

Trellani laughed, and gestured. "It should be interesting. But really, did you have to pick such a ridiculous name, 'Des Solas'? I know Desolas Arterius cost you a great deal , but ..."

The Illusive Man only smiled wider. "Yes, he did, for which he paid. Still, in a way, I owe him a great deal. If he had not opened my eyes, there would never have been a Cerberus. It is only fitting his brother is the excuse I needed to cut myself free from the bonds I've been ensnared in... may he come to the same end as his sibling."

Twenty minutes later, the yacht was gone from the Denver Spaceport, already headed for the Charon Relay. It would be nearly six weeks before a detailed autopsy found that the body in the top of the Cord-Hislop tower might or might not have been a clone, and another two months before the ruins of the hidden chamber and escape tunnel were located by SA investigators.

By that time, the Illusive Man would be well and truly free again.


	72. Chapter 63: Cerberus, the Hunt Begins

_**A/N: **__ Sorry for the delay – end of the month is always hectic for me. I'm not usually a big fan of making an OC take up a big chunk of a chapter, much less two chapters, but Telanya is a special case in that she'll be used for some time to come. _

_You may note I'm starting to incorporate concepts from the various documentation files I've put up , including things about asari culture. If you haven't read "A Season of Sorrows Unending" you may wish to check it out. And if you're tired of me plugging my own work, then give Mighty Crouton's __**What the Water Gave Me **__a try. _

* * *

Telanya took a deep breath as she entered the Normandy, eyes darting all around her. The angles of the ship were strange. The humans and turians alike had a fixation on elongated, angular shapes, but this ship was curved gracefully, like a hunting raptor. The metal gleamed faint, cold blue-white in the lights of the Citadel docks, reflecting back the shimmering cityscape spread below in lurid colors.

Telanya bit her lip and stepped aboard, following the two thick-set human drop soldiers lugging their gear. The corridor beyond was lined with haptic control stations, most already manned as the ship prepped for departure, and a huge control map dominated the CIC, flanked by more humans, looking grimly competent in their dark blue uniforms. Telanya had been dealing with humans for years, of course, but she mostly dealt with criminals, traders, or cretins like Harkin.

These humans, on the other hand, looked proud, professional, and vaguely suspicious of her, giving her dark looks before turning back to their duties. She would have to watch her tone, and maybe Garrus could help her blend in with the crew. She sighed, following the soldiers down stairs leading behind the CIC, thinking back on how she'd ended up here.

It had started innocently enough – she'd been trying to reach Garrus in the confusion of the Normandy's return, frantic to make sure he was alright. After being stonewalled by the SA and the Spectre offices, she'd asked her best friend, Imaelia of Hearthwatch Clan, for advice. The older asari had smiled and gotten in touch with an old friend, who put her in touch with the Consort...

Ending up with little Telanya of no clan standing before Councilor Tevos, on a tight-beam link with the Council of Matriarchs of the Thirty Families, high rulers of the noble houses of Thessia. She had no clue what was happening, she'd been summoned and so she had obeyed. Executor Palin had been strangely gentle when he'd told her that the Councilor wanted to see her, and she had expected something, but not what actually occurred.

Tevos had let her know Garrus was alright, but that there was another concern. A princess of the Thirty, Liara T'Soni, was aboard the Normandy. Due to the actions of Benezia T'Soni, the asari race as a whole, and the Thirty in particular, had been shamed. Worse, many of Benezia's former devotees had rebelled – using force against other asari.

Not in ten thousand years had there been armed resistance to the Thirty.

There was concern that Benezia was smart enough to have made contingency plans for being exposed. The Thirty (and the Justicars) wanted to put Liara to the Question, to force a hard, deep link and scour her mind to ensure she wasn't part of Benezia's plans. The humans, fools to the last of them, thought that Liara fighting against geth or her mother and her forces indicated her innocence, but the Thirty worried that was just a gambit, and that Liara might still answer to her mother – they found it astonishing a daughter would even agree to fight her mother in any circumstances.

The SA had denied letting the Thirty take custody of Liara, and the Justicars had been quite rudely told they had no authority in Citadel Space off of the asari worlds. The Thirty needed eyes on Liara T'Soni, and Tevos had found a way to deliver that. The Council had given Telanya her charge – watch Dr. T'Soni, and watch how she influenced the humans. If T'Soni was truly an innocent, well and good – she was the SA's problem now. But if she was indeed in collusion with her mother, Telanya was to take Liara's life.

Telanya snorted. She figured her chances in combat against a member of the Thirty were about on par with her chances at killing a krogan with a bottle of crest gel, but she was too overawed by the Thirty to even suggest such a thing. Telanya had no idea what arms were twisted or eternities embraced, but the next day, she'd been gruffly approached by SA soldiers and a commissar at her workplace in C-Sec, and told the SA had approved an asari commission for her to join the Normandy.

Now she was here, and nervous. Garrus would be upset, she knew. His whole turian background called out for him to protect his mate, and bonding had only made that desire more paramount. It was going to make his job harder, and he would worry about her constantly. She felt ashamed, and bitter at that, and realized belatedly that she didn't have any kind of kathess mind discipline training to prevent him from picking up on the fact that the Thirty had placed her here to spy on T'Soni. He'd like that even less. As she followed the soldiers, she nervously wrung her hands – her life was empty and bleak enough without losing Garrus, too.

And then there was the human, Shepard, who had not looked entirely displeased at her arrival, but was clearly unsure of her ability to fight in an infantry platoon. Telanya had only hoped she had looked competent and that she hadn't stared too much, the human was stupidly good looking in a way that made it hard to tear your eyes from. And the stories about the Butcher were horrifying, the kind of stuff Matriarch Silana used to make up about batarians and krogan. She'd read the C-SEC reports of the aftermath at Chora's Den, where they were sure Shepard had been – broken necks, people burned alive, Goddess only knew what else...

She was no longer playing with stupid freight scammers and two-bit red sand smugglers.

The stairs opened into a broad area with tables and a small kitchen – mess decks, she figured – with a giant figure standing in the middle, looking over the soldiers in front of him. He must have topped her by a good two and a half feet, thick with muscle. His features were dark and craggy, one eye covered with patch, and he smiled as she came to a stop next to the other soldiers. "And you must be Telanya. I'm Master Chief Cole, command master chief of the Normandy's ground command."

She nodded, coming to an asari attention stance – legs parted, arms behind the back, head raised. "Sergeant Telanya Nasan, C-SEC Customs Officer." Cole just nodded and folded his arms. "They told me to report to you, sir."

Cole glanced over the other three soldiers. "You apes already know what to do. Pick a coffin and stow your gear on the lower level, Gunnery Chief Williams is the armory officer. Then report to Lieutenant Alenko for force briefing." The soldiers moved off, lugging their gear, and Cole turned his attention back to Telanya. "According to the manifest, you're a replacement for one of my infantrymen. I see you have your own gear, that's good, but we'll still issue you a new rifle." He paused, frowning. "And we should be able to fit you with one of the suits of armor we have, that C-sec riot crap won't stop the kind of shit we get thrown our way."

Cole sat down on top of the nearest table, his massive bulk making it creak, and rubbed an eyebrow with his thumb. "Most of the infantrymen are deployed when we do a ground-side op. Command structure is simple. Lieutenant Alenko commands the unit over all. Right now, I handle one section; Gunnery Chief Williams handles the other section. With Chief Vega here, we are going to shift that around some, but more on that later. You any good with biotics?"

A dry voice, a bit exasperated sounding, rang across the mess decks. "Oh, yes, Master Chief. She's very good with her biotics... in some situations." Garrus stalked across the deck from the battery, wearing only clothing instead of his armor, chest still bound in bandages visible under the thin cloth, limping a bit. "The question is not if she's any good, but why is she here?"

Telanya sighed. "I'm here on the orders of the Councilor and the Republic, Garrus. Can this wait? We're in the middle of a conversation."

Cole grinned, holding up both hands; one flesh, one cybernetic. "Whoa, now. I don't need to interrupt anything, Miss. When you get a moment, just head on down to the lower level, I'll be going over some things with the other new guys, and we can discuss Systems Alliance battle and comms protocol. Sleeper pod six has been keyed to your ID, and Doctor T'Soni offered to let you stash your gear in the lab forward of medical –" he paused, jerking a thumb behind him and off to his left" – if you need more space than a gear locker."

Cole paused to trade a look with Garrus that she couldn't interpret, before patting her on the shoulder with a massive hand. "Also, Commander Shepard wants to see you before you settle in. Report to her quarters sometime today, those are right there." He gestured to the far wall, and smiled. "Don't forget." With that, the big man walked off, leaving Telanya in the middle of the mess decks with Garrus staring at her.

With a huff, she glared right back at him, and he motioned her forward. She merely followed, past the rows of stasis sleeper pods affixed to the walls. She shuddered at the idea of sleeping alone in such a device, and resolved then and there to just crash on the floor somewhere, anywhere. Garrus continued to walk forward, moving into a small room at the end of the corridor – a gunnery control station, it seemed. A turian-style cot was propped up in one corner, and a large, heavy sniper rifle hung from hand-driven hooks in the far wall.

Garrus came to a halt, shutting the doors behind her, and growled. "What the hells is going on, Tel? You were supposed to call me, after they released me from the hospital, and I got nothing. No replies to my message, no call backs – I thought something had happened to you, that you'd been shot. C-SEC said they couldn't comment!"

She set her pack down, rubbing her hand over her crests wearily, and then slumped down to sit on a crate in one corner. She smiled, ruefully. "Now you know how it feels, huh? Garrus. I just... I wanted to find a way to get in touch with you. I reached out through a friend to... the Councilor, Lady Tevos, and before I knew it they'd decided that I should be here on the ship."

Garrus' eyes – always so piercing, so clear – were clouded with worry and confusion, and narrowed as she spoke. "Who is 'they', Tel?"

Telanya whispered in response, an undercurrent of stammering awe seeping into her voice. "The... The Thirty, sins recoil from their houses. The Council of Matriarchs on Thessia wanted me here. They... they needed someone to keep an eye on things."

Garrus frowned, then grimaced. "Shepard told me the asari had made a lot of demands that we turn over Doctor T'Soni to them. So they sent you here to spy on her, tell them if she's a bad piece of plating? Why didn't they just take Shepard's word for it?"

Telanya snorted. "Garrus, don't be silly. If a Palavanus or a Thanvanus family member went rogue, wouldn't you want to question his family about it? Wouldn't you be suspicious if that was denied? She's not just some clanless, after all...she's important. Just because Shepard vouches for her means nothing at all – from the viewpoint of the asari, Shepard is a reckless killing machine, not known for her political acumen."

Telanya shrugged, folding her arms. "Also, I think it's a knee jerk reaction to what Liara has done by renouncing her house. The news was full of the story that she'd given her House rights over to her aunt, but everyone knows that Matriarch Mithra was never of the High Line of the House. Liara could snatch back the reins of House T'Soni whenever she felt like it, and it just feels staged to some people."

Garrus sighed. "Asari politics? I can't make fringe or spur of it. I do know that this isn't like you. You've been shaken ever since you managed to settle on the Citadel, and you avoid your own people like the plague, most days." He paused, and she shrugged, and he shook his head. "I suppose I should be happy that you are here." His voice rumbled soothingly as he let himself relax, tracing his hands over her shoulders. "I _am _happy, just worried. This mission... it's not safe for you to be here, Tel. You could have turned them down."

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't. I can't just sit on the Citadel not knowing if you've been blown into pieces on some alien world. And I can't just... deny the Matriarchy, Garrus. I'd lose my position at C-SEC, and probably worse." She sighed, trailing her hand against the sharp angle of his jaw. "And I don't think the Matriarchy is going to take Shepard's word for it that she isn't a threat. There's stuff going on that has them spooked, I think. They... they sounded angry, and worried. What in the name of the Goddess worries the Council of Matriarchs, Garrus? I've seen one of them slap a pirate fighter out of the sky with a wave of her hand like it was a gnat."

Garrus leaned back against the wall. "I've never interacted much with matriarchs. But we tangled with Benezia on Feros, at least, Shepard and her team did. Liara fought her own mother. I don't think she's any kind of threat, honestly. She's... well, she's shy. Benezia sent geth and krogan to try to kill her when we found her on Feros..."

Telanya shrugged. "I'm sure this is all a waste of time, which is why I agreed to it. It was a way to be here...with you. That's my goal." She sighed, and glanced up. "That's...not what I came down here to talk about. I just... I wanted you to know why I am here... and to understand I'm not just here because they want me here. I don't want you to die, Garrus. I want us to have something. To heal, to... I don't know, sail on the seas of Palaven, or raise children in the hills of Thessia, or something... calm. Away from all this."

Garrus nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. "I know, I know, Garrus. This isn't going to be easy. But I can't live in fear the rest of my life, and I'm not going to heal anytime soon. I know this." Her smile was sad, her eyes seeking his. "You know this."

Garrus bowed his head. Telanya's mind was wounded, he knew. The asari stalker that had nearly killed her had done something to her. She woke with nightmares often, whimpering, sometimes crying or just shaking helplessly. Garrus was there when he could be, but that wasn't often enough. "I'm... not doing a real hot job at being your bond-mate, Tel. I'm sorry."

Small blue fingers wrapped around his hands. "You're doing just fine, Garrus. If you weren't, I wouldn't need to be here."

O-OSABC-O

Telanya spent another half hour with Garrus, deciding that she was going to camp out in the gunnery room with him, and if that bothered anyone they could just deal with it . After dumping off her gear, she decided to report first to Cole, and then to Shepard.

As she traversed the mess deck, she saw the curious glances of some of the crew, and more than one set of eyes flicked from her over to the medical bay. She wondered why, as she entered the elevator, along with a strongly built human male, who triggered the lift control.

"So, ah... er, do you know Doctor T'Soni?" The human's face was set in what Tel assumed was a pleasant expression, but there was a nervous note to it. His name tag read Jackson, so she shrugged a bit and answered him.

"Goddess, no. She's asari royalty; I'm just a beat cop. I got tapped for this because I work in Customs and I can help track Saren, plus Garrus is my partner." She used an ambiguous word, not that she was ashamed of her relationship with Garrus, but not wanting to feed rumors either. She didn't have a good feel for humans.

"Huh. Maybe that's why she's so quiet and doesn't talk much." The big man rubbed his jaw. "I'm Gabe Jackson, marine platoon one. The top kick – uh, Master Chief Cole, said you'd be working with us."

The elevator slid open, revealing the cargo bay of the Normandy, and two lines of marines standing at attention in full armor, with Cole and a more slender, younger man next to him. Cole arched his eyebrow at the two as they stepped off. "Sergeant Jackson, how goddamned good of you to finally join us. And Sergeant Telanya, welcome to the unit." He motioned for her to stand at the end of one of the lines of marines, and cleared his throat.

"Alright, boys and girls. We had our teeth kicked in on Eingana, and that shit is not going to happen again. Each of you has been issued a new set of armor and a Crossfire rifle. The Crossfire is superior in every aspect to that piece of crap stock rifle you've been using since boot. Your armor will bounce rounds that would have gone through Onyx armor. Shepard has spent her own funds and her entire operational budget on outfitting you apes and you will not disappoint the commander." He paused. "Will you?"

"No, Master Chief!" Telanya was shocked by the thunder of 13-odd marines shouting in unison. This was completely alien to the calm, joking camaraderie of an asari militia unit. These humans were hard, violent, and drenched in adrenaline. Even the women looked chipped out of stone, every member of the unit towering a good foot above her. Cole glanced at Telanya, then at the two men at either end of the unit. "You've noticed our new members. That is why the LT is here, to discuss some organizational changes. Sir." He nodded, and the slender man stepped forward.

"I'm Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, and until today I was the battle duty officer of the Normandy. Due to some holes in our ranks and the danger of the missions we're going into, Commander Shepard is changing up our organization ranks. Effective immediately, the Master Chief here is brevetted to First Lieutenant. That makes him the BDO. I will be leading a two man team consisting of Specialist Tali'Zorah and Specialist Urdnot Wrex, alongside Commander Shepard's team of Specialist Garrus Vakarian and Specialist Liara T'Soni. This gives both of our main teams a technical specialist, a biotic specialist, and someone who can do both."

Alenko paused. "Since Cole is now the BDO, Senior Chief Vega will be replacing him in Platoon One. As Platoon Chief, Gunnery Chief Williams will continue to oversee Platoon Two. Each platoon will get a specialist. Since platoon one is down only one person, you get Sergeant Telanya. She's trained in the asari military for over twenty years, been in C-SEC for five, and has more kills than any of us. Additionally she has biotic abilities, so your group will have a better defensive balance."

Telanya didn't react, although she knew her barriers were a bit rusty from not using them much. Alenko continued. "Our two DACT troopers will go into Platoon Two, acting as a rapid-reaction strike force. They will deploy with the Mako from orbital drop or act as emergency backup when needed."

Alenko turned to Cole, who smiled, before slapping the big man on the shoulder. "You have all done the Normandy, and the Corps, proud. I'll leave you to your briefing now, but you can still talk to me if you have questions."

Alenko exited the cargo-bay, and then Cole shrugged. "Alright, listen up. The fact they put fancy silverware on my collar does not mean I will not put my foot up your ass if you screw up in the field. We have a lot of prep to do in the next day. Shepard is taking us up against Cerberus. I want you all to field-strip those weapons, check all the seals on your armor, and make sure you are five by five before the ship casts off today." He paused. "Get hopping. Sergeant Telanya, Chief Williams a moment, please."

She followed him across the cargo bay, alongside a strongly built human woman. They were all so tall! Telanya looked up, taking in the woman's hard, muscled form, and her open, blunt face. _Pretty, I suppose, if you like a touch of coarseness, but by the Goddess, what is the gravity on this barbaric Earth place to raise such sturdy natives?_

Cole stopped at a series of lockers set into the wall. "Sergeant, Chief Williams is our armorer. We just got upgraded with some top of the line armor, and new weapons. As I said before, the light stuff you have on is not going to cut the mustard when it comes to fighting geth, or worse."

Telanya chuckled. "You'll forgive me if I'm not familiar with human idiom, but I am guessing that means you think this armor is too weak to stop geth rounds. Fair enough. I'm not sure about using your weapons, though." She unfolded her assault rifle from her back. "This is an asari weapon, a … well, I guess you'd call it a plasma gun. I've seen the direct kinetic assault weapons your race uses. They work well against barriers, but they won't put holes in asari matriarchs very well."

Williams narrowed her eyes. "We'll be fighting geth and humans pretty soon too, Blue."

Telanya laughed. "And no doubt you'll slaughter them. I've seen the Eden Prime tapes, you are a fearsome warrior... so is Shepard... but I've trained with this weapon too many years to set it aside now, although I am interested in new armor. C-SEC," she said dryly, "can be... cheap."

Both Cole and Williams grunted, almost in unison, then glanced at each other. "Yeah, so can the Systems Alliance. That's why Shepard had to upgrade everything herself. You've fitted armor before, I presume?" Williams voice was still cool, but less so than a moment before.

Telanya nodded. "I have. Shouldn't be much of a problem, assuming it's not too big for me to wear."

Cole nodded, activating his omni-tool. "I'm going to start uploading the SA command frequencies and communications package to your omni-tool now. For the rest of the day just get settled in. When we're traveling, there's not much for the marine contingent to do. We'll set up the firing range later on tonight, see how good you are with a gun. Chow for the marines is at 0800, 1300 and 1900. We get up at 0600 and do morning PT from 0700 to breakfast, then drills from 1000 to lunch, and finally evening training from 1700 to 1900. The rest of the time is yours to use as you see fit."

Telanya nodded. "Thank you, Master Chief – is that the correct form of address? Or should I call you Lieutenant?"

Cole shook his head, even as Williams grinned. "Don't call me Lieutenant. Not thrilled 'bout being kicked upstairs, I like being in the line of fire, not standing back shouting orders. Williams, fix her up with her armor, then come find me, we need to review the jump-lunatic's armor packages." Cole strode away, but then paused. "Oh. Just a reminder. Make sure you talk to the Commander after you get squared up, Sergeant."

Telanya turned to Williams, who shrugged and began to lug out armor.

O-OSABC-O

Telanya had been on board an hour, and the ship was moving, beginning the undocking process. Now fully kitted out and equipped, she reported to the Mess Deck, looking around and finally locating the single door that lead to Shepard's quarters.

She activated the door control, which chimed and flashed yellow. A moment later the door slid open, revealing the Commander's quarters. They were very small and compact, with little decoration. The Commander sat in a chair in the corner, dressed in light BDU's, and next to her stood an asari.

The asari was beautiful, in a cold manner. Telanya took in the classical features and the fact that this asari was a head taller than she was. She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes widening in surprise, and Telanya first saluted the commander before bowing formally to the asari. "Commander Shepard, Sergeant Telanya Nasan, C-SEC Customs. I hail from the colonies, of no clan and of only minor achievement. I assume this is Lady Liara of House T'Soni?"

The commander and Liara traded a strange, almost guilty look, before the asari turned and faced Telanya fully. "I will let you conclude your business with the commander in private, Sergeant." Without another word or even a hint of an introduction, she walked past Telanya and vanished.

The sheer rudeness of such an act – not even bothering to identify herself, so unlike an asari – left Telanya speechless for a long second, enough time for Shepard to stand and address her directly. "Sergeant, welcome aboard. I can only assume you've been briefed on our mission and your place here." Shepard turned to face Telanya squarely. "That being said, you're not here for me to discuss that, but to ask you exactly how you can help us bring down Saren. I asked the SA for replacement infantrymen and I'm still not exactly sure how you got here .. or how best to use you."

Telanya gave a small nod. "I'm not sure about who made the calls or decisions, Commander, but in short, I believe that I can provide essential assistance. When C-SEC was investigating Saren, Garrus's partner was researching the movement of Saren's money. He wasn't able to pin down exactly what was going on, but Saren had investments in a number of companies, as did Matriarch Benezia. Many of these companies were either related to genetic research or in stellar cartography."

Shepard rubbed her chin, a thoughtful expression crossing her otherwise calm features. "We have intelligence suggesting Saren is looking for an old Prothean world of legend, called Ilos. So the stellar cartography makes sense...but why genetic research?"

Telanya shrugged. "He may be just using the companies as a front to launder money or hide resources he plans to use in some other fashion. So far, everything has been legal, and the companies claim they haven't had any contact with Saren or Benezia since the Council outlawed them. However, since the largest two companies are based on Noveria, which is outside the Citadel's jurisdiction, we have no real way of knowing."

Shepard tilted her head. "Noveria, huh? I think after we clean up Cerberus, we'll take a joyride out to Noveria and see if we can't shake anything loose. We haven't had any leads since we ran into Saren and Benezia on Feros." Shepard paused, thinking, and Telanya shifted from foot to foot before biting her lip and asking a question.

"Commander, about Matriarch Benezia. . . we plan to engage her in combat? She is one of the most powerful asari in the galaxy and your team .. seems a bit light on biotics."

Shepard laughed at that, but it was a rueful, bitter laugh. "You are correct, Sergeant. We had Saren cold on Feros, my team had dropped one of his allies, most of his geth, and I had him dead to rights. Benezia basically defeated myself, Liara, a krogan battlemaster, and a SA N7 special forces soldier in about three seconds. I think she was holding back because of Liara, but... I don't have a good answer for your question. Liara would like to capture her rather than kill her obviously, but I'm not totally sure we can do either. Do you have a suggestion?"

Telanya was surprised the Commander would ask her opinion, but after a moment she shrugged. "Appeal to the Asari Republic for assistance."

Shepard tilted her head, black hair shifting to fall across her face a moment before she pushed it back behind one ear. "I get the feeling the Asari Republic would like to see her dead, and maybe Liara with her. They don't seem keen on embarrassment. Unfortunately, we may have to take her out on our own, which is going to be very rough. I hope you're up for that."

Telanya had no real answer for that, and a moment later the intercom barked. "Commander, we've got clearance to the Widow Relay. What are your orders?" Joker's voice sounded tense, and Shepard smiled grimly.

"Is Pressly in ops yet?"

Pressly's voice sounded, a bit weak but steady. "I'm here, Commander. Doctor Chakwas isn't happy about it, and I'll have to stay off my feet and run things from a station, but I should be up for this. We're getting updates from the STG and the 9th Citadel Fleet about their assault on Cerberus...they've just started."

Shepard clicked off, and turned to Telanya. "You should head down to see Cole and get ready for combat, Sergeant. We'll finish this conversation later, and you can tell me the best ways to annoy Garrus." She smiled then, and Telanya couldn't help but smile back, before saluting and turning to go.

"Telanya."

The asari paused, turning to face Shepard, who'd lost her smile all of a sudden. "Garrus is going to be in harm's way quite a bit. Usually the SA doesn't let spouses serve on the same ship, but he's an integral part of my fighting team. You're sure you can handle this?"

Telanya shrugged. "I'd rather be here and in the fight than wringing my hands on the Citadel not knowing he's dead or alive, Commander. He's never been safe, not in C-SEC, and this is no different. I'm just thankful you've allowed me to be on board where I can help make sure he... that we all get out of this alive."

Shepard nodded. "Fair enough."

O-OSABC-O

Twenty minutes later, Shepard had emerged onto the CIC, and was reviewing intel from the STG and Council assault on Cerberus as the Normandy pulled away from the Citadel. Flashes of blue and silver blinked over ominous orange and black circles, data streams erupting from each one on the galaxy map. Shepard gritted her teeth and tapped the control panel next to the railing. "Joker, do we have comms with Admiral Kahoku?"

Pressly had processed out of the medbay and was sitting at the ops alley station closest to the CIC, Doctor Chakwas standing next to him and applying a medical package. While he could at least run the ops alley, Pressly would still be too weak to run around handling navigation, leaving the inexperienced Friggs to act as navigator. Alenko was on the ops alley as well, brushing the rust off his tactical officer skills, but everyone knew that if Pressly wasn't really fit for this task, the Normandy would be in trouble.

Joker's voice was flat, unusual for the volatile pilot. "We have a com-link to the SSV Phoenix, the Admiral's cruiser. Patching you through." There was a pause and a blast of static, then the strong voice of a man could be heard. "This is Captain Parker, SSV Phoenix."

Shepard cleared her throat. "Captain, this is Commander Shepard. It's my understanding the main assault on Cerberus positions known to the Council has started. The admiral was supposed to have a lead on their HQ for us – is he available?"

The captain's voice dropped an octave. "No, Commander, he is not. He lit out about ten hours ago on a combat shuttle with a DACT drop team to investigate a fragmentary return on a distress beacon from his regiment, and we have… we have not been able to regain contact. There's a Cerberus cruiser in this damned system and we're playing hide and go seek with her. She's got us outgunned."

Shepard grunted. "Our ETA is 44 minutes. The Theta Relay drops us right into your system. We'll help you take out the cruiser and then we need to find Admiral Kahoku. I'll patch you through to my tactical officer. Shepard out." She slapped her controls and glanced to Kaidan, who nodded and picked up the comm to figure out details of the assault.

Shepard turned back to the map, grimacing. After dealing with Pressly (and a charming mid-morning call from Udina's office, with him sourly applauding Shepard on neither shooting anyone nor starting a street battle), she'd been sent a briefing packet on the assault on the Cerberus organization. Since her recommendation of such an assault, the STG had worked closely with elements of the Shadow Broker, routed through a Spectre and kept entirely off normal comms channels. Except for Shepard and Kahoku, no one in the Systems Alliance expected the assault to occur until months in the future, but the STG had scouted as many positions as they could.

Lead by Spectres and combining asari commandos, STG snipers, and turian Deathwatch special ops, the Council Fleets had rushed almost thirty such locations. Most were supply depots, comm relays, or caches of weapons, armors, and supplies. But three such locations were forward bases, defended by Cerberus soldiers.

Initial approach to most of the facilities had been easy. The outlying areas were guarded by little more than poorly armed conscripts, but the comms information had all been deleted. The STG got partial returns on one base, rushing in two asari commando units. Cerberus met these with an entire tank division with gunship support, falling back to a huge fortified base on one system and a dug-in series of bunkers on another, standing off two entire armies.

The STG planners of the assault were convinced that the central core of Cerberus operations had not been located, and that Kahoku's regiment had stumbled on it, based on fragmented messages they salvaged from the Cerberus comms system. Launching full assaults on the two known military locations would be suicide – each was protected by Cerberus's own fleets and GTS missile batteries, anti-air mass accelerators, and nearly 15,000 Cerberus troops. The STG were stunned at Cerberus's strength. So the decision was made to hope Kahoku's intel - whatever it's source - would allow Shepard to find and take out the HQ, perhaps triggering a surrender of other Cerberus forces.

Shepard worried more about the battle reports. The Cerberus forces were light on armor, heavy on snipers, close quarters fighters, tech-saboteurs, and the like. In open battle, she was confident the Citadel military would slaughter the Cerberus forces. The turian generals advising the STG agreed with that assessment, but they were holding off such assaults until they could be sure nothing could get away. But the generals and Shepard were both wondering why Cerberus's military was more suited to urban assaults than general battle, and in her own mind, Shepard had come to some disturbing conclusions.

Shepard straightened. Even assuming Kahoku's men had found Cerberus HQ, taking it would not be easy. She had the authority and comms links to request heavy backup, including 4 units of asari commandos and 2 entire turian infantry regiments, but she was not the best at direct assault tactics and couldn't afford her usual attritional assault tactics, since getting half of an alien force killed to stop human terrorists would not end well.

And yet, she might not have any choice. Ground assault on a hardened defensive facility, with what was sure to be heavy ground to space defenses? People – aliens – were going to die in heaps and piles taking that Cerberus HQ out, if the information was even valid . And if it wasn't, she fully expected Cerberus to scramble a cruiser or worse try to stop her ship.

It didn't help she was still wondering why Saren had made no moves recently. Was the stupid bastard dead? What did they learn from the Cipher that she hadn't? Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose and made a small, frustrated noise. _Too many questions, too few answers, too many expectations. _

One of the orange and black circles flickered and died on the galaxy map, and one of her tech-ops snorted. "Goddamned lunatics detonated a tac nuke on themselves, Ma'am. They took about 300 turians with them."

Shepard shook her head in a mix of disgust and awe. How did you convince people to throw their lives away like that? Willingly? Or did Cerberus HQ just blow the place up remotely, with the defenders not even knowing they were going to die? Would taking out the HQ really make the rest of the forces surrender, or would they fight on?

She couldn't answer those questions. She had to find her inner coldness again. There wasn't room or time for her to be Sara Shepard, Commander, or Sara Shepard, N7 leader, or even Sara Shepard, Spectre. These Cerberus assholes were powerful, well trained, fanatic, and lead by the most immoral and evil fuckers she'd ever heard of, men who would possibly kill an entire regiment of human soldiers to keep their location secret.

No, it was time for the _Butcher_ to handle business.

O-OSABC-O

The Normandy emerged in the Sparta system and deployed its heat emissions gear quickly, as the CIC was filled with tactical and nav personnel. Finally cleared by Chakwas and left alone, Pressly was sitting in one of the ops alley stations, wearing a T-shirt and marine camo pants, a medical package over his shoulder, a drawn expression on his face. "Commander, we have the Phoenix on primary sensors...and an additional contact."

Shepard glanced at the tac plot even as the tactical team started its track. "New contact, Hotel zero one. Bearing, zero zero six, mark two, range 45 thousand. Initial firing solution ready". The tac ops voice was steady, and Shepard nodded grimly. "Joker, full IES stealth, take us in under that Cerberus cruiser."

The Normandy arced out and down, the faint light of Sparta's sun glimmering off the curves of her hull as the lights dimmed. Shepard pulled down the 1MC communicator from the station overhead and announced "All hands, man battle stations. Marine contingent, prepare for insertion in one five minutes."

In the cargo bay, marines put on their new armor for the first time, slapping each other with high fives and strapping on flat-pack grenades and other tactical gear. Telanya's eyes widened as she took in the power armored suits of the two DACT marines, now hulking seven foot tall giants with coaxial mass accelerators on each arm. The two huge marines gave wolf-like howls and crashed their helmets together with a sharp crack, and Wrex grunted his approval.

Telanya shot a glance at Senior Chief Vega, her face set in amazed curiosity, and the big man just laughed. "Ignore them, there's a reason we call them lunatics." Vega lifted his 774 series Typhoon LMG, and barked out loudly. "Marines! Are you hot?"

"Hot, locked, and ready to rock, SIR!" The booming voices echoed around the cargo bay, and Vega nodded to Master Chief Cole, who jerked his head towards Mako's.

"Alright apes, pile on. You two jump lunatics can find your own way down when we go in, till then, let the fly-boys clear the skies." Vega gestured to the rightmost MAKO. "Sergeant Telanya, we're gonna load into the back of that Mako. They're orbital drop vehicles."

Telanya's blue eyes regarded the two slab-like tanks, then turned back to face the human sergeant. "Garrus is right. You people really are crazy."

The ship lurched, sending Marines skidding. Telanya reflexively used her biotics, anchoring herself and dropping a weak barrier over the Marines to keep them from flying down the length of the temporarily vertical cargo hold. The ship righted, creaking from stress, and Williams grunted out her thanks for the save. The 1MC boomed again, Shepard's icy calm voice sounding almost bored. "Prepare for high speed evasive maneuvers." She apparently forgot to click it off as a blast shook the ship, roaring out questions, followed by "Joker, I want that fucker dead, now."

On the CIC deck, Pressly's fingers were moving over his haptic display, as the Normandy pulled another turn. The Cerberus cruiser was agile, built to some kind of heavily armored spec that wasn't any Alliance standard. It had pasted the SSV Phoenix pretty hard, and that ship was drifting without power now, its drive core knocked offline.

The Normandy's speed and maneuverability was matched against the cruiser's firepower and armor, but so far the contest was uneven. Shepard's mind considered the possibilities as the Normandy power-skidded past two more missile salvos, but a third clipped their shields, drawing curses from Joker that weren't even remotely anatomically possible.

Shepard grimaced, and looked across the deck to Pressly. "I need options, XO."

The man nodded, his face drawn with pain and ashen looking, his forehead sheened with sweat. "Trying, Commander. He's just got too many missiles." His hands moved across the haptic keyboard, trying jamming and e-chaff, but the expression on his face told Shepard that he wasn't finding much success.

Shepard grunted, then grimaced as the entire ship shook, as missiles crashed into the underbelly of the ship and shook every deck. The lights flickered as the shields quick-booted and restored themselves.

She'd had enough of this cat and mouse game. "Joker, get us in close. Once you get below him, do a deflection, spin the ship, and nail him with the guns." She ignored the pilot as he began to squawk about the order and instead punched up the target plot. "Fire a spread of torpedoes, detonate them at half effective range. I need this guy blind for this to work."

The silver hawk of the Normandy slashed past the ugly white Cerberus cruiser's flank, taking two shots from a broadside as she did, nearly shattering the shields and one shot skipping through them to crease the armor on the wing. Torpedoes lanced out even as this happened, gleaming silver nodules promising death, and the Cerberus ship shifted its aspect, GARDIAN batteries opening up in a blaze of defensive fire.

Joker gritted his teeth as he twisted the ship to the angle below the field of fire, the mass core pulsing weirdly as it allowed the ship to ignore its own inertia, skidding across empty space like skipping a stone across a pond. With a series of taps he angled the ships main engines to the right and fired, throwing the Normandy into a counter-clockwise spin, even while he forced the reaction control thrusters to elevate the nose.

For about half a second, the Normandy was bow-on to the underbelly of the Cerberus cruiser, still knocking down torpedoes. In that half second, the main gun spat six mass rounds with full power. The Cerberus cruiser, its tac ops staff having taken the Normandy's maneuver for a cut-and-run, was not expecting the shots.

The first three flared impotently against the cruiser's shields, the fourth shattering them but skidding off harmlessly. The fifth slug slammed directly into the belly of the cruiser, splintering armor plating and punching through with tremendous kinetic force. The last shot, unhindered, smashed deep into the ship itself.

The result was catastrophic for the cruiser. The slug had blown apart every control surface link and the ships computer, leaving the cruiser dead and without power for a few seconds while backups tried to kick in. The shots themselves had not been too bad, and under any other circumstances the Cruiser would have rebooted its disrupted systems, turned, and probably crushed the Normandy.

But it had only shot down five of the six torpedoes. The sixth arced in, slamming into the top of the cruiser, and detonated, a weapon designed to crack dreadnaught shielding after hitting bare hull. Grainy, almost silvery light spilled out like some poorly animated special effect as matter and antimatter annihilated each other, and ball of pure energy tore through the center of the Cerberus cruiser.

The Normandy rattled and shook with the blast, as the entire front half of the enemy ship simply atomized under the tremendous blast, and a moment later, the back half blew apart in a titanic explosion, sending debris everywhere. The ops alley cheered as Joker brought the ship around, and Shepard exhaled quietly. "Good work. Joker, bring us alongside the Phoenix and let's get them back online."

Pressly cleared his board, then gave the Commander a weak smile. "Looks like you have a better grasp of the tactics than I do, ma'am."

Shepard snorted. "If it hadn't been for you working your magic with the ECM and chaff we'd have gotten pasted just like the SSV Phoenix." She took in his drawn appearance and the sheen of sweat dampening his t-shirt and sighed. "For now, I want you back in the med bay. I know you're tough, but I need you at top performance, XO."

Pressly sighed and nodded, and Shepard turned back to the galaxy map, waiting to dock with the Phoenix and grimacing as orange and black lights flashed and faded under the tide of silver and blue lights.


	73. Chapter 64: Cerberus, Ambush

**A/N:**_ I don't know how often I'll be updating for a while. A lot of stuff just kind of went bad for me all at once. I had a .. really bad interaction with someone I was trying to open up to, as hard as that was. I just found out I'll be out of my job on Friday. My mother's insurance is all messed up so that will , of course, not fix financial issues much either. And it's the anniversary of my wife's death, which is , as you can expect, always an emotionally great time to be fucking alive._

_I didn't use my normal beta-reader (Owelpost) for most of this, because of work and other difficulties on both our parts, so if the wordage is clunky or there's misspellings, that's my own stupidity coming out. I wanted to get this chapter out since it was pretty much done since I'm not sure I will feel like writing for a week or two. I'm about half done with the chapter beyond it and we'll see where things go from there. _

_I know that AU's aren't exactly … popular. The fact that SI's, humor fics and the like seem to have a lot more popularity doesn't really bother me. But I got a fairly rude PM about my 'dismantling of canon' and how 'disrespectful' it is to change things around so much that sorta makes you question why you bother in the first place. _

_Anyway, just wanted to let whoever reads this to know that the next chapter may be a ways in the future. _

* * *

The SSV Phoenix was a much larger ship than the Normandy, but it had still not been a match for the Cerberus cruiser. As the Phoenix finished extending the docking tube to link the two ships, Shepard took in the heavy blast damage along the starboard side of the ship, noting places where the armor had been melted or blasted away.

Beside her, Kaidan was pulling up the Cerberus data packet sent by the Citadel onto his omni-tool. Although he would be leading a team of his own alongside Shepard, he still would be in charge of relating battle strategy to the Marine contingent, and as such, she wanted him to hear the briefing from the captain of the Phoenix about whatever new clusterfuck they were about to step into.

The Normandy shuddered once as the tube clicked into place, and the airlock light cycled from red to yellow as air was pumped into the docking gangway between the ships. Shepard smoothed back her hair and glanced over her shoulder at Kaidan. "Anything of interest, Lieutenant?"

Alenko shrugged, eyes narrowed as he scanned through the documents. "Not really, ma'am. It looks like the turians have hit some serious problems in their assault on the two Cerberus bases – several more of these over-armored cruisers jumped in and savaged a troop transport before being driven off by the Fleet." He tabbed over on the haptic screen his omnitool was displaying. "As far as ground forces, it's pretty nasty stuff. Lots of snipers, mixed with close-quarters fighters and heavy infantry."

Shepard huffed, as the airlock door cycled open, the light shifting to green. The two Alliance officers crossed over quickly, the airlock shutting behind them. Shepard had never shifted from ship to ship in deep space, and the flimsy feeling of the docking tube wasn't very comforting.

They entered the Phoenix's airlock, both giving small sighs of relief as the airlock shut behind them, and then the doors opened into the Phoenix itself.

Like most SA ships that didn't have turian influence, the airlock opened into a open room, with waist-high defensive barriers and automated turrets to deal with boarding parties. Waiting for them was a single lieutenant, young and dressed in BDU's. "Lieutenant Chalmes, ma'am. If you'll follow me, the Captain is in the CIC."

They followed him out into the main corridor, and Shepard winced. The corridor was wider than anything on the cramped Normandy, lined with storage lockers and illuminated with track-lights. Many lockers were askew, their contents hastily shoved back to clear a walkway, and two injured sailors were on the ground, being tended to by medics. Melted paneling and jagged fragments of blackened shrapnel littered the ground, and a haze of acrid, bitter smoke still hung in the air.

The three officers walked down the corridor, taking steps down into the center of the ship, which showed no battle damage. Kaidan glanced around and sighed. "You look like you got hit pretty hard, Lieutenant."

Their guide sighed, using a pass-card to open two heavy blast doors, and nodded. "We thought we had them pinned down, but they had some kind of multimunitions torpedo that ended up frying most of our systems. Once the drive core went down they landed some direct hits on us. The medbay is wrecked, decks 2 and 3 are mostly in ruins, and part of hydroponics is just a waterlogged mess, so we'll have to fall back to resupply – we don't have O2 reserves or enough food to last without hydroponics being up."

Shepard nodded, as they passed through a tunnel of thick armor banding into a circular room, with two levels. The upper level was manned by tac-ops on various consoles, much like the ops alley on the Normandy, and the lower level was dominated by a large, circular information console and war map. Standing in front of it was a craggy-faced older man, with spiky dark hair only barely cut into Alliance spec, and piercing, angry black eyes. His otherwise pale features were lined with stress, and his dress blue command uniform was spattered with blood on the right arm, which was wrapped in a medical package.

"Captain Chris Parker. Welcome aboard, Commander." He extended his hand for a shake, and Shepard took it, frowning at the shake but shrugging a moment later as the man turned away. "We're really glad you guys showed up when you did, that bastard pretty much had us dead-bang."

Shepard glanced at the tactical map, a cool smile lighting her features. "They didn't know who they were fucking with."

Parker gave a bark of amused laughter, and faced her from the far side of the map. "Clearly. Alright, here's what we have. We jumped into this system based on intel from the Admiral. What kind, we have no clue – he wasn't being very chatty about it, and he sounded as if he expected Cerberus traitors to have riddled the entire command structure." Parker grunted. "As if I'd let that kind of shit happen on the Phoenix..."

Shepard folded her arms, letting her weight fall back onto one leg. "Underestimating a foe is the first step towards letting them get the drop on you, Captain. Cerberus isn't a pack of biotic terrorists blowing up a food station, or Earth First goons going after colony ships."

Parker sighed. "I know that. But I know my crew. And we didn't have any issues getting in system. Kahoku took his personal battle transport and said he was going to check out the third planet, as he'd gotten a ping response from his regiment's emergency transponder. Apparently it was so weak that it didn't have the juice to even reach the comm buoy near the mass relay. We were supposed to pick him up about two hours ago, but three hours ago we lost all comms."

Kaidan looked up. "Suddenly, or was it planned?"

Parker shrugged. "The last comm we had with his ground team indicated they'd found something weird in the ruins of an old pre-FCW colony on the planet. We were going to wait for clarification...then we got the message from High Command to pull back to the relay and hold position, waiting for you. So we hauled ass here, high speed, and came in blind, that is when that Cerberus cruiser dropped in from FTL and unloaded on us."

Shepard nodded. "How many men did Kahoku take with him?"

Parker pulled his omnitool up, tapping on its screen. "He had two squads of DACT jump troopers with him, a couple of AISholes, and 3 squads of A's from the 11th RRU." Parker shrugged. "The shuttle was equipped with a JOTUN mech as well. I can't imagine what could take out that many men so fast they couldn't get a damned message off."

Kaidan frowned. The Alliance Intelligence Services – or "AISholes", to people that didn't care for their under-handed tactics – were all highly trained at spotting traps and ambushes. DACT teams were power-armored maniacs with heavy machine guns and plasma throwers, most with at least 15 years experience, and were some of the hardest fighters in the entire Alliance. A-rank marines were all veterans, and if they were in the Rapid Reaction Units, they would have also had heavy training, likely having seen heavy combat and ready for anything. Finally, a JOTUN mech was a towering 14 foot tall battle robot, equipped with a high powered grenade launcher, coaxial mass accelerators, and shielding that could bounce light mortar fire.

_Even if they were outnumbered as much as ten to one, they should have been able to get off some kind of message...unless they were jammed. _Kaidan turned to Shepard. "A force of that size is a lot stronger than anything the Normandy can bring to bear, ma'am. And if they couldn't get a message off... they might be jammed."

Shepard shook her head. "If there was a jamming field, how is the beacon's signal getting through even after they lost comms? As for the numbers, well, if whatever is down there took down an entire regiment of 800 or so men, numbers won't help." She examined the map, thinking, then looked up at Parker. "The Normandy is going to drop both MAKOs on the surface and check it out. How much longer until your engineers restore full power?"

Parker scratched his ear. "The core is back up, we're mostly rerouting blown circuits and bypassing the computer core that got wrecked. But we don't have a working medbay and I have over eighty casualties and about forty dead. We're not going to be much help, Commander."

Shepard sniffed. "Alright. After we get dropped off, the Normandy will circle back to help with repairs, until reinforcements show up. We can't figure out what happened up here, we'll drop a good ways out and try to do reconnaissance in force. Get your ship patched up enough to jump out and then withdraw, Captain."

Parker frowned. "Commander, you should probably wait for back-up units to arrive..." He paused as Shepard gestured to the map, where another black orange circle flickered and vanished, along with a blue square.

Shepard's face was set in cold lines. "They're blowing themselves trying to take a few aliens with them when they go. We don't know what's happened to Kahoku, his men, or even why the fuck his men were in this empty shithole of a system to begin with. The more time we take to find Cerberus HQ and put a bullet in those fucks, the more time they have to cover their tracks." Shepard's eyes were hard and cold. "Fix your ship and withdraw, Captain. Spectre authority."

The older captain grimaced and nodded reluctantly, and Shepard waved a hand in Kaidan's direction. "Patch all this through to your combat net, Lieutenant, then let's get to killing." She swiveled on a heel with lithe quickness, stalking off in her usual pantherine gait, and Kaidan hurried after her, updating his omni-tool's links as he went.

O-OSABC-O

Telanya was more than a little nervous.

The inside of the MAKO tank was cramped, with hard, square seats and too much useless information scrolling on small haptic screens on the ceiling of the vehicle. The marine squad was crammed into the seats in full armor, slapping on seal patches, checking extra weapons, and tightening armor straps. She'd turned her translator off for a moment, and she could hear their native language, sounding like a pack of angry shanda-beasts hooting to one another before moving in for a kill.

She'd seen plenty of humans before, but that was as a C-SEC officer – watching them from cameras, or across the desk of a customs station, elevated a good 4 feet off the ground and staring down at them. They seemed small and timid then, most of them from the colonies, blinded by the Citadel's opulence. Up close with their soldiers, they didn't seem tame at all.

The angles of the MAKO set her teeth on edge, all lines and edges, not a single curve to be seen. There was no grace in it, no elegance, just threatening, sheer raw power and blocky endurance. Like the humans. She gave a private laugh to herself, thinking about her friends back on Thessia, and how they saw humans as little more than entertaining sex partners.

They were dangerous in the extreme. She cut her omnitool back on, the guttural growling being seamlessly translated to the elegance of the asari language, but she could still hear it, the strange clicking and growling noises in the background like some kind of demented echo. The Master Chief was speaking to the platoon, even while the tank shifted, the Normandy obviously angling to go into the atmosphere.

Cole was dressed in different armor from the rest of the soldiers. They – and now, she – wore suits of armor, heavy and thick, with a blue-scale camo pattern on black bodysuits. The left shoulder contained an integral heavy shield generator, and every marine had on a belt of grenades and a high-powered pistol as a sidearm. She held _Tithas, _her Spear of Athame battle rifle – it had belonged to her mother, and was her only possession of value. The other marines held Crossfire heavy rifles, each one equipped with a haptic swing-out targeting sight and an under-barrel disc grenade launcher.

Cole grunted, then a smile crossed his craggy features. "We're going to drop in a few minutes, so you apes need to get hot and ready. We're dropping as Vengeful Shield – this is a rescue mission, defensive options only. An Alliance admiral is down there somewhere, so is the transponder of a ship that carried an entire regiment of Marines."

Cole lit one of his trademark cigars, aromatic blue smoke wafting around the tiny compartment. "I don't know if he's still alive or dead, and that doesn't matter. I want you to put your foot up the ass of whoever took him out if he is dead, and I want you to defend him with your lives if he's still alive. No heroics, no bullshit." Cole paused, locking eyes with each of them. She met his gaze evenly, and Cole finally nodded. "Now, Platoon Two is going to be down two men because our goddamned DACT think it would be fun to orbital drop first as scouts, so I'll be working with Chief Williams. Chief Vega, these apes are yours. Deploy forward defense and hold."

Senior Chief Vega nodded. "Got it, ese -"

He was cut off by the 1MC announcement circuit, the voice of the Commander speaking. "All hands, stand by for extreme high speed maneuvers and hot drop. All hands, man battle station condition one, set defenses for repel hostile boarding parties. Carry on."

Telanya glanced at Vega, who shrugged and continued. "I got this, top." Turning back to the men and women of Platoon One, Vega's voice was softer, more … nuanced. "We already have complications, so let's not fuck this up. Jackson, you'll take point. Telanya, take rear guard, and keep an eye out." He proceeded to give everyone in the group a main and a fallback task, as the ship began to shudder and buck.

Shepard's cold voice echoed across the MAKO again, across the 1MC. "All hands, brace for extreme high speed maneuvers." Vega grinned, sitting into his seat and bringing the restraint bar down across his chest. "Alright, Marines. Get hot!"

The squad loaded ammo blocks and engaged the spin-ups of their assault rifles mass generators, and Telanya flicked the safety on her own weapon, a faint blue glow creeping up the translucent barrel. The woman next to her slotted three HE grenades into her weapon, while across from her, a male marine unclipped his shotgun and checked its loads before rolling his shoulders and cradling the weapon across his chest.

Vega glanced up as Telanya spoke. "Senior Chief, when Master Chief Cole said your DACT troopers were planning to orbital drop, did he mean they have their own small landing vehicles?"

Vega's good-natured grin only widened as he triggered the multifunction display in the ceiling of the MAKO. "Not quite, Sergeant." Telanya glanced up, looking at the telemetry.

Outside, the two DACT troopers sealed their massive ICARUS jump armor, flaring mass effect jets on the back glowing blue and white. As the Normandy began to scream through the atmosphere, the two once again cracked their helmets together, then gave blood-curdling howls as they were launched from the small drop bay in the Normandy's nose, hurtling into the atmosphere.

The ICARUS armor immediately deployed omni-gel, the gel building ablative shielding around each trooper, as their shields kicked in, angling to slip them through the atmosphere. Powerful computers in the armor adjusted the mass effect jets and fields of the armor, as the two men scythed through the lower atmosphere, trailing a blazing corona of crumbling ablative armor. The omni-gel generators in the suits continued to pump out new ablative coatings as they broke through the lower atmosphere, blasting through faint gray clouds.

The suits jerked as mass effect jets reversed their flow direction, and a series of breakaway parachutes erupted from the heavy packs on each trooper's back, halting their momentum. A few seconds later the two DACT troopers crashed to the ground in a ball of omni-gel shock cushioning, which detonated and flew apart in a hail of shrapnel a moment later, reacting to a pulse coming from the armor's shield generator to clear an area.

The two men popped up, one lifting a heavy mass acceleration minigun, the other a plasma incinerator, and they swept the area in slow circles. "Normandy, this is Angel One. We are dirtside, we have no hostiles, and no indicators of combat. Area is clear, drop beacon is hot." The other soldier triggered a beacon on his belt, generating a guide-path for the Normandy, and the frigate turned into the atmosphere, the cargo bay doors opening.

Telanya's eyes were still wide as she watched the telemetry. "You people are insane."

Vega grinned wider before slapping his faceplate shut. "Marines! Are you hot!" Once again, the inside of the MAKO resounded with shouting – "Hot, locked, and ready to rock, SIR!"

The MAKO gave a surging thrust, and Telanya's eyes widened in horror as she realized exactly what Vega meant by a combat drop. "What is wrong with you lunatics! Don't you humans have fucking ramps?"

Garrus's dry voice cut into the comm. "You know, Tel, I asked them that, and Shepard just laughed at me. I'm not sure they advanced enough to get that far..."

Chief Williams' acerbic voice sounded. "We evolved far enough to put our foot up your ass, Vakarian." Telanya winced, but Garrus just laughed. "Well, Chief Williams-"

Shepard's icy voice cut off the chatter. "You can make 'yo mamma' jokes, later, battle chicken. Landing in fifteen seconds. Squads deploy upon landing, defensive perimeter." Telanya grit her teeth and a few seconds later, the MAKO landed in a shaking, jolting cessation of movement that left her wondering if she'd broken her neck.

Of course, the marines around her just howled in exultation. Frightful.

O-OSABC-O

The terrain of Edolus was not particularly inviting. The area they'd landed in was flat, almost unnaturally so, with large lumps of terrain breaking the monotony ever few hundred feet. The sky was a pale gray, even in daylight, with wispy, sullen looking darker gray clouds skittering along in the high wind. To the west, the lip of a massive impact crater could be seen, along with ancient lines of ejecta from the impact.

Shepard consulted the map in her omni-tool, Liara and Garrus crouched next to her. She'd split her teams up for maximum effectiveness. She, Garrus, and Liara would take 1st Squad to the site of the beacon, while Kaidan would lead Wrex, Tali and 2nd Squad in the other MAKO to the last known fix they had on Kahoku.

Shepard had reviewed the comms Kahoku's team had engaged in with the Phoenix, and nothing stood out as abnormal. Edolus had been a small human colony before the First Contact War, but after the war it had been abandoned as not profitable and difficult to defend. That meant the terraforming wasn't completed, and the air wasn't quite safe to breathe. There could be anything here, as humanity had hardly paid the place any attention in twenty years.

Shepard was tempted to call the Normandy back to do orbital scans, but hesitated. Mainly because the Phoenix was a sitting duck – the Normandy could stealth, after all, but the Phoenix couldn't, and if more of those Cerberus cruisers showed up, she was done. But also, something was nagging at her. The men of Kahoku's regiment would have been traveling in either a battle transport or a cruiser. Yet there was no sign of the ship in orbit.

That either meant it had been taken – and what the hell could board and capture a ship packed full of Marines – or it had been shot down trying to land. If it had been taken out trying to land, that meant serious ground-to-space guns, probably powerful enough to turn the Normandy into so much silver and black confetti if it came in for a landing. Best to find out what happened, neutralize any threat, and then call for backup if needed.

Tali broke into her ruminations. "Commander, I have both drones up. The beacon is about half a mile north, while the last transmission of Admiral Kahoku is a mile past that, in the direction of the old colony site. There.. there's some kind of energy emission in that direction, but I can't get a good fix on it."

Shepard glanced over the little quarian. "Interference?"

Tali shook her head, nervously twisting her hands together. "N-no. It's... it's like a localized jamming field. The drop beacon is outside of its range, but Kahoku's last transmission is within it. I've never seen anything like it.

Shepard's eyes narrowed as she took in this new information, running the scenario through her mind. A regiment hunting Cerberus goes missing on an abandoned planet, but manages to get off a beacon, which Kahoku somehow finds out about and goes chasing after. Once he lands, his ship is ambushed and nearly destroyed, while he gets jammed and just … vanishes.

Garrus growled, and his stance shifted, becoming almost .. predatory. The legs tensed, and the blank plate of his helmet whipped around to face her. "This is a trap, Shepard."

Shepard snorted. "What was your first clue? Alright, change of plans. Everybody mount up into the MAKO, we're checking this damned beacon out. " It took a few minutes for everything to get put into place, but soon the two MAKOs were rolling along, the ride surprisingly smooth for once, given the level nature of the terrain.

Liara, no stranger to abandoned sites, was a bit confused by this. "Why is the ground so … level?"

Telanya, in the back of the MAKO, rolled her eyes, but it was Kaidan who answered on the team's comm channel. "Most likely it was leveled in planning for the colony. I guess they didn't finish entirely, when they pulled out they just left things like they were."

Wrex was glancing around the terrain too, from the canopy gun mount of the MAKO. Something about the area set his teeth on edge. He triggered his comm link. "Maybe. But for once, I agree with the asari... something feels off." His eyes flicked back and forth over the area, making out not much of anything as the bland landscape rolled by, and he focused his attention to the beacon.

The two MAKOs slewed around it, each about thirty feet away, and the hatch doors opened, letting marines spill out in a semicircle. Master Chief Cole, hefting his Revenant in one cybernetic hand, made deployment hand signs with his free hand. Shepard approached the Beacon even as her squad began making a defensive perimeter, rifles aimed outwards.

The beacon, she saw, was not just an evac beacon, but the kind ejected from a ship when it was in distress and going down. The beacon was in transmit mode, but it was just broadcasting a general distress signal, not the recorded message that should have told them what caused the beacon to be launched in the first place. Shepard knelt down, wiping a patina of dust from the control panel, and used her omnitool to interface with the Beacon. "Keep a sharp lookout", she said, as she began to work.

It took her only a few seconds to access the beacon's command menu, and she recoiled in shock as she realized the message on the beacon had been deliberately deleted. She fished around in the small file system the beacon had, but whoever had done this had been very thorough. Frowning, she moved to see if she could access the beacon's sensor pod, when she realized that it had also been modified.

A single mass pulse generator was hooked to the sensors. She puzzled over this, before calling out. "Tali, come look at this...the hell?"

The quarian trotted over, kneeling next to Shepard and bringing up her own omnitool. After several seconds, Tali gave a small, confused sound. "It looks like someone has cross-linked this beacons' sensor pod to this MFG... so when you trigger it to download the telemetry, it sends out a large subterranean pulse. "

Shepard arched an eyebrow, her mirrored faceplate hiding the gesture. "This isn't stock. Someone modified it to let .. someone know .. when someone accessed it. And if they went to the trouble to wipe the logs, I doubt they left the sensor data intact."

Tali nodded, and Shepard stood. "Kaidan, draw everyone back. Put both MAKO's on the ridge back there, with someone manning the guns, and move everyone else into Prudent Fist assault formation. I think this damned thing is a signal emitter, and when I set it off, we're gonna get hit by whatever took out Kahoku's group."

Kaidan did so, leaving Shepard alone with Garrus and Liara. The turian unlimbered his sniper rifle, glancing around. "You realize this plan has us being caught in the trap with you, right, Sheep?"

Shepard only nodded, and there was something … cold … in how she did it. Her hands slipped to her back, drawing forth the ODIN shotgun, shifting it into slug-shot mode. Garrus uneasily stepped back, almost unconsciously falling into his old turian military assault stance. Liara glanced around nervously, hesitantly drawing her pistol, eyes wide as she turned her head left and right.

A few moments passed, a weak breeze kicking up faint trails and smears of dust in the air, and then Kaidan's voice sounded. "Position set, Commander."

Shepard nodded and tapped several controls, bringing up the sensor telemetry. Both she and Liara winced as the mass effect pulse went out, an almost subsonic rumble mostly felt in the bones, and then the sensor data turned from static to a Cerberus symbol.

A moment later, a voice spoke, recorded, calm, amused. "Congratulations, Admiral Kahoku. We knew you'd never give up on your men, so we decided to draw you in. We know you remember Akuze, so this should be a fitting goodbye." The sensor unit blanked, and Shepard stepped back.

_Akuze...the colony wrecked by –_

She wasn't even able to finish the thought as a titanic roar shattered the air, and it was only her reflexes that saved them. With savage might she used her biotics to throw Garrus and Liara backwards, both shouting in alarm, and then used the kanquess to charge backwards blindly, stumbling as she came out of it.

Where she had stood a few seconds before, a toothy maw erupted, teeth the size of her leg trailed by long, milky tentacles. A body emerged, slick with liquefied mud and mucous, barrel shaped and as wide as a city bus, higher and higher, until that vast head tilted to look in her direction.

She could hear Wrex cursing over the comm link. "Thresher Maw!"

Before anyone else could do anything, Shepard sprang to her feet. "Get to the MAKO, GO!" She shoved Garrus into Liara and, lifting her shotgun, performed a biotic charge.

The streak of blue light slammed into the thresher maw's deformed skull, erupting into the blinding flash of a nova, making the worm screech in agony. Shepard anchored herself to the thing with a biotic pull, and began emptying her shotgun into it's head at point blank range, trying to distract it from Garrus and Liara, who were running full out even as the two MAKOs surged forward.

The maw screamed, and Shepard quickly charged back to the ground as its mouth erupted into a torrent of acidic bile, spraying through the air to land impotently sixty feet away. The dirt under the messy vomit just evaporated under the acidity of the mix. Shepard landed about ten feet beyond the edge of the muck with a skid, sliding back a few feet as she came to a stop.

"Now, fire!" She called, and both MAKOs opened fire with the main guns, shells crashing into the beast's flank and head. The first shot enraged it, but it turned into the second blast and screamed loud enough to shake the ground. A torrential jet of green ichor splashed out from a gory crater three feet wide in its head, and with a shuddering shiver, the massive thing collapsed to the ground, smashing into the terrain hard enough to nearly jolt Shepard from her feet.

She panted for a long moment, grinning to herself. She was still grinning and thinking of what she could say when she turned to see both MAKOs flipped through the air, as two more thresher maws erupted from the earth, sending both the heavy tanks flying...

… leaving Garrus and Liara standing in the open, with no where to run.

O-OSABC-O

The MAKO was tumbling, but Master Chief Cole was not out of the fight yet. He triggered the mass effect jets, turning the tumble into a wild spin, making the Marines in the back yell in alarm. With a grunt, he shifted the top jets to full, slamming the tank downwards toward the ground. The MAKO impacted with a lurch and slowly skidded to a stop.

Even as he did so, on top of the MAKO, Chief Williams gritted her teeth and opened fire with the main gun on the closest thresher maw, blasting it in the torso. The explosion of the mass accelerated HE shell was satisfying, but the maw just swayed in place before turning to face them and diving down into the ground.

Cole shook his head, throwing the MAKO into a hard reverse, then swinging the tank wide. His eyes scanned the smooth ground, and he cursed himself for not remembering the same, unnaturally smooth terrain on Akuze when he was assigned to do cleanup after the Massacre. The lone survivor, the now famous Captain Delacor, had defeated a swarm of maws by detonating the fusion generator of the destroyed colony, but not before he lost his entire unit trying to fight the maws conventionally.

Cole wasn't about to make the same mistake. He triggered the jets, shifting the MAKO to the side, and a few seconds later the maw erupted very close to where the MAKO would have been otherwise. Grinning, he felt the tank shake as Williams planted two more rounds into the beast. Having learned from the lack of effect of a body shot, Williams targeted the head this time. The first shot blew off a fifteen-foot long tentacle and drew an angry roar, but Williams second shot flew right into its mouth and detonated, blowing the back of its head apart in a spray of ichor and chunks of bone that pattered down to the ground in a grisly rain. The Marines cheered as Williams blew the thing a mock kiss.

Meanwhile, the other MAKO was in serious trouble. Hit more directly, the drive train was seizing up, and Kaidan couldn't get the vehicle out of the way of the towering creature coming at them like a freight train.

Wrex, still in the turret, fired at the maw a couple of times as the MAKO finally bounced to a shaky stop. The two hits were minor, blasting a way a chunk of flesh, and Wrex knew that only a direct shot to the head would stop the thing.

As Kaidan tried to back the MAKO out of the flat area towards one of the exposed rock spars off in the distance, Wrex grinned as the other MAKO blew the head off of the thresher maw they were facing. The one pursuing them broke off, erupting from the ground angrily and spitting a wad of corrosive bile at the distant vehicle.

Wrex cursed, as the other MAKO was hit directly, one of the tires warping under the assault. He cursed again, this time nervously, as yet another thresher maw erupted from the west – only to laugh a biotic blast lit up the entire battlefield, warp fire spilling over the thrashing animal's head.

Wrex concentrated, focusing in on the maw that was slewing back and forth towards the other MAKO, before firing once. His shot was true, the massive shell catching the maw in the back of the head just as it erupted again from the ground, blasting it back down to the dirt. The other MAKO fired its own guns, blowing the front of the beast apart.

On the ground, Garrus reloaded his sniper rifle, having put out both of the thresher's huge eyes, while Liara panted shallowly next to him, having thrown all her might into a powerful biotic strike that staggered the huge, worm like beast. It was now spitting at Shepard, who was dodging and rolling, flashing in and out the kanquess biotic charge with almost effortless grace.

With a grimace, Liara gathered her strength once more, exhaling as she forced her energies into a single bright line of biotic force. A large slash erupted on the 'face' of the beast, shearing off several massive teeth and two tentacles, and the maw retreated back into the ground. Shepard performed a charge, erupting about ten feet behind Garrus and Liara, her armor still spotless except for a splash of mud on the knee. "Jesus fucking Christ! Wrex, blow that fucking beacon apart!"

Wrex complied, the MAKO 's main gun barking its fire forth a moment later, and the ringing pulse of noise that had echoed through Liara's bones the whole time finally fell silent. They waited several seconds, looking around nervously, before realizing the maw was not coming back. Shepard activated her comm again and spoke quickly. "Shut the MAKO engines down, and dismount. From what we know about these beasts, they're attracted to vibration. Meet up near Kaidan's MAKO."

It took about five minutes for everyone to gather. Miraculously, the acid that had nearly wrecked Master Chief Cole's MAKO did not eat completely through the armor plate, and no one was injured. Wrex leapt down lightly from the turret, landing in a crouch. "Shepard, you faced two thresher maws on foot. You trying to be a krogan again?"

Despite his good-natured tone, there was a note of displeasure in his voice, but Shepard merely shrugged. "We had to react to the situation as it happened...I sorta doubt anyone is prepared to fight multiple thresher maws." She sighed, then turned to the group. "Alright, listen up. Based on what we just saw, it's pretty fucking clear what happened to Kahoku and his men. They probably touched down some distance away, and got eaten alive by the maws. Given that we just killed three of them and there's at least one more, we have no way of knowing if additional maws are roaming around."

She gestured angrily towards the two MAKOs, one wrecked and the other one badly damaged. "In any event, our rides are too shot up to risk. We can probably get them up high enough for pickup, but that's about it. Florez, Montoya." She pointed to the two DACT troopers. "Split up and recon in the direction of the last comms with the Phoenix from Kahoku's group. You're the only fast movers we have now, so stay alert and in comms."

The two nodded, and triggered their mass-packs, leaping off into the sky. Shepard turned to Tali. "Your drones didn't pick up anything?"

Tali shrugged, ducking her head. "No... I'm sorry. I didn't think to have them scan the ground, and they didn't pick up anything suspicious within range. I couldn't send them into the area of the jamming field or I'd lose control..."

Shepard nodded, and then sighed. "Put them up now, that will give us some warning if another maw shows up." She turned to Master Chief Cole, even as two balls of haptic light erupted and began circling the group. "Master Chief, modifying the plan a bit. Leave four men here to guard the MAKOs and man the comms relay. Two men from each squad, I guess. Squad 1 will accompany myself, Liara and Garrus in the direction of the last known position of Kahoku."

She rounded on Kaidan. "Squad 2 will accompany Kaidan, Tali and Wrex, and using Tali's drones, identify the source of the jamming. Once you locate it, do not engage, plot its location and fall back to comms range. If we get into trouble, we'll call you. Questions?" She glanced around, then nodded. "Move."

Telanya was pleased that her squad would be the one attached to Garrus, and she opened a private comm channel with him as the two groups split up. "That was...pretty crazy."

Garrus glanced nervously at Shepard before responding on the private channel. "Yeah, even crazier than usual, Tel. Shepard's been on edge since we had that mess on Eingana, and she's hard to read at the best of times. But I've never heard of anyone going up against a Maw on foot." He paused. "Then again, like she pointed out, what else was there to do?"

Telanya thought on that as they began walking, only to come to a stop as the voice of Sergeant Montoya sounded on the scouting comm channel. "Commander, I'm at the old colony site...and I've found what's left of Kahoku's team. There's nine dead thresher maws that I can see, but it looks like the unit was overwhelmed. Their shuttle is overturned and wrecked. I see eleven dead DACT and about a dozen others. The JOTUN mech is down, tangled up in a maw, but it may be online if we can get to it to repair it."

Shepard nodded. "Anything else?"

The trooper's voice was worried. "Yeah. There's not enough bodies, so I'm assuming the maws … well, ate some of them, ma'am. I don't see Kah-" He stopped, and there was the distinct sound of him arming his minigun. When he spoke again his voice was grim. "I think you'd better double time it, Commander. I can't find Kahoku's body, but I just found two more Marines, and both were killed with shots to the head by a weapon. There are footprints that don't match SA boot patterns as well."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Get to cover and keep your eyes open, Sergeant. We'll be there shortly. Shepard out."


End file.
